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Arlathan Forest, Lucanis decided, was unnervingly strange.
There was a haunting beauty to the place; he couldn't deny that. Towering trees with thick, emerald canopies swayed gently in the breeze, the Halla tranquilly and gracefully wandering through the underbrush, undisturbed and calm and the glittering lakes, crystalline and pristine, mirroring the sunlight almost reminded him of home, except the lakes were clearly cleaner than the Treviso canals had ever been in his time of living. But then there were the trees that looked like elves, sprouting hands and feet or looking as if they had been turned into greenery instead, out-of-control artefacts and bloodthirsty wildlife that was seemingly corrupted, thick and raw magic permeating the forest, leaving him with a relentless headache that throbbed in sync with the ancient rhythms of the forest and the ancient elven architecture that reminded him just a little too much of the Ossuary.
But when Rook, or Wilhelmina, as some (it was largely her father, really) had slowly begun to call her after Emmrich had joined their team, asked him to join her and Bellara on a trip to Arlathan Forest to find some missing Veil Jumpers, he couldn't refuse. Not that he could truly refuse her anything but -
Lucanis was surprised she had asked him to come along at all.
After he spectacularly failed to kill Ghilan'nain at Weisshaupt, he assumed she would be angry with him - and rightfully so. He had expected her to yell at him, tell him that he was useless to their mission, and for him to simply return to Treviso and perhaps send a more capable, less possessed Crow their way who could fulfil the terms of their contract. He had anticipated her to look at him with fury and disgust - for any affection he had hoped he had seen in her eyes to dissipate entirely. It had already surprised him she hadn't berated him outright in front of their team, even if all of them knew he was the reason they had failed, but then she had surprised him even further when she told him she wasn't angry at all, but that she was glad he had returned - breathing and alive.
"Ghilan'nain was a face in the clouds, Lucanis," she had told him. "I asked you to stab a cloud. That was impossible, and you still almost did it."
Lucanis didn't understand why she hadn't been any more furious with him, and if he was any truthful with himself, he hated that she hadn't been furious and instead showed compassion. He was furious with himself. He didn't miss his targets, nor did he leave contracts unfulfilled. He was a professional, at least he had been before Spite, and if he couldn't even be that, what else was he supposed to be? What was there - what was left of him - if not that?
And yet Rook hadn't shown anger once. She had checked in on him as often as she could, and as soon as he had gotten word Venatori were hiding out in Treviso, she hadn't hesitated and thrown herself into stopping Zara Renata with him. He still shuddered in anger and disgust at that confrontation - for losing control in front of her, for not getting the answers he had needed, for Illario using blood magic on him and banishing him from his home. Spite readily agreed, tearing at the seams as the memories, still fresh and bleeding, surfaced in his mind. Rook and Neve had somehow managed to get his unconscious body back to the Lighthouse, and if that hadn't been enough, just two nights later, Spite had decided to sleepwalk again after Lucanis had stupidly fallen asleep, and Taash had grabbed Rook from her bedroom because apparently she was only one his demon ever listened to. Granted, Lucanis knew Rook, much like her father, could hear Spite even if he didn't take over Lucanis, but it unnerved him how obsessed the demon was with her - not to mention it led to severely embarrassing moments more than once because Spite did not understand the concept of boundaries. Spite assured screamed at him time and time again that he merely wanted to talk to her, but Lucanis did not trust himself, let alone Spite, with her. Death was his calling, and Rook, like everyone else around him, would get burned if she stood too close - he wouldn't make matters worse by allowing a demon around her. She already carried the weight of the world on her shoulders; adding his own would be cruel.
It was precisely why he had turned from her in a moment of weakness, and it was then that he knew he had really messed up. Lucanis winced as he recalled that night in the pantry, where he had nearly kissed her and Maker had he wanted to, but he turned from her at the last second and left her standing on her own. He felt his own heart break when he saw the heartbroken look on her face, but it felt easier for her to hate him. If she was able to hate him, it meant she was alive, and that was far more important than any... feelings he might have for her.
Rook, who had taken the lead with Bellara whilst he hung back to both give the two elves their space and watch Rook's their backs, turned around when she heard him wince, worry in her eyes, and he hated that he had made her worry once again. Before he could say anything, she turned to him and walked up.
"Lucanis, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he waved her off, clearing his throat. "Just a... headache." Lucanis almost winced again. That was possibly the dumbest thing he could've said.
Rook carefully reached out to touch his cheek, but he retreated, and she let her hand fall back down, disappointment shimmering in her eyes. "Alright," she cleared her throat. "But we should probably think about setting up camp anyway. It's getting late, and I don't fancy getting lost in Arlathan in the middle of the night."
"Oh," Bellara turned around, "Rook's right. We should set up camp. There's a clearing just ahead so we could -"
Lucanis whipped around before Bellara could finish, his ears picking up on the familiar groaning and hissing of Darkspawn before seeing the familiar ugly shape of an ogre stumbling their way out of the coppices. The thing was all muscle, filth, and malformed rage - fungal patches clinging to its pallid, blistered skin like leeches and black ichor dripping from its slack jaw as it let out a roar that shook the trees. The grotesque thing let out a hollering sound before it came charging at them, the entire group jumping aside as the thing ran straight ahead. Lucanis landed on his feet, looking over his shoulder, his eyes searching for Rook with quiet consternation. Feeling immediate relief upon seeing she was alright, he took a brief breath to remember his training - There is no place for emotion in killing. It's sloppy. File it down. Make it useful. - before throwing himself at the ogre, desperate to keep it from Rook. It was silly, of course. She was well able to defend herself, and the spells she flung in quick succession were proof of that, but the cold embrace of fear greeted him each time he saw a foe getting a little too close to her he had no desire to patch her up in the middle of nowhere or carry her corpse back to the Lighthouse where Emmrich would surely murder them if something had happened to her and he'd let him.
Bellara's enchanted arrows pierced the hide of the ogre, who shrieked as it tried to keep up with three people attacking it. The creature shrieked, enraged, clawing at its wounds and flailing in confusion, whilst Rook was somewhere flitting all over like a spectre, fade-stepping to keep it disoriented and blinking out of reach just before each massive swing. It was surprisingly helpful as Lucanis hurled his daggers at the thing, striking hard and fast as he danced around it, one blade striking its neck, another its exposed flank, causing it to stumble and bellow and turn wildly as the ogre failed to catch any one of them. He tried to keep an eye on their surroundings, but it seemed the ogre had stumbled through on its own, and he was mildly thankful there seemed to be no horde following it - Darkspawn were a pain in the arse to deal with. When he finally struck his sword into the ogre, his eyes twitched as he felt the familiar pulling of the veil before a pulse of pure energy surged to the right of him and hit the ogre right in its chest, melting it into a slurry of blackened goo and steam, vanishing in a burst of energy that lit up the forest and leaving the trio panting but unharmed. Lucanis looked to Rook first, who was covered in grass and leaves, her hair tousled and free from the braid she had previously kept it in, and her cheeks flushed beautifully pink.
He had to clear his throat and will himself to look away, chest tightening.
"Everyone alright?" he asked, faux surveying the area around them, but Arlathan had returned to its usual unnatural stillness, no sign of any danger in sight.
Rook's affirmative hum reached his ears. "Never better."
Smells like. Oak and. Soil.
Lucanis whipped around again, only to see Spite hovering close to Rook, who carefully turned her head in the direction the demon's voice had come from. He couldn't fight the horror on his face, flushing in embarrassment when she tilted her head questioningly. "Is this your way of telling me I stink, Spite?"
His demon grinned, even if she wasn't able to see him, Lucanis flushing furiously. "That's not what he -"
Like. It! Spite sniffed.
"Por la sangre del hacedor," Lucanis groaned, burying his face in his hands.
Rook laughed, though her cheeks seemed slightly darker than they were seconds before. "Well, thank you, Spite."
The demon seemed to preen at her praise, and Lucanis suddenly wished they'd be ambushed by a horde after all or that the ground would at least open up and swallow him whole. Bellara only looked at the pair with a confused glance, unable to hear Spite, which was perhaps a blessing in disguise. It was bad enough that Rook could hear him - he didn't need another person to be bothered by the demon.
"Okay," the Dalish elf slowly said, her eyes going back and forth between the two of them. "Should we -"
Lucanis immediately rushed forward, pushing past the two of them. "Yes. You said there was a clearing ahead?"
He couldn't see behind him, but he did hear Rook and Bellara following him, trudging forward as they continued downhill towards a clearing - just as Bellara had said. The grassy meadows under the canopy of trees were almost a comforting sight as the golden shimmer of sunset bled through them and illuminated the space. A soft breeze carried the scent of flowers, and a little further, Lucanis could discern the ruins of a bridge, once granting passage over a lake, that now shimmered peacefully in the remaining rays of the sun. It was peaceful - quiet - though there were far too many possible chokepoints if one would have asked him. Still, Bellara and Rook were right when they suggested they make camp for the night. Whilst he likely wouldn't sleep, Spite being far too much of a risk to leave unchecked, particularly in the middle of Arlathan, the forest was already treacherous at day, never mind in the middle of the night. Rook also looked positively exhausted when he looked over to the two setting up a tent - deep circles underneath her eyes and fatigue that appeared to have settled into her bones. He couldn't blame her, of course, but it worried him just the same.
He sighed, turning to set up a fire and warm up the dinner he had prepared in the Lighthouse - frico and polenta. It would manage to keep them sated, and whilst he wouldn't typically eat either, it would do. It was most assuredly a better option than the Ham and Jam Slam Harding had offered to make. Lucanis grimaced only thinking of it - he had no idea how Rook, Harding and Varric had survived throughout their year on the road, and it evidently hadn't gotten any better with Neve around. Bellara was, surprisingly, a somewhat decent cook, but it quite frankly wasn't any difficult to be passable when compared to the rest. Harding was a sheer disaster, and while Lucanis had never met Varric, he seemed equally incapable of producing anything appetising based on the tales Harding and Rook had told. He'd never tried Neve's cooking, but her coffee had been offence enough for him to not even dare, and Rook, well... Lucanis grimaced, thinking of the evening she had tried to assist him in preparing dinner; the night had ended with her asleep on a chair, drunk off her arse because refilling her wine glass was a far better idea than for him to allow her anywhere near the knives. He still didn't understand how one could massacre mushrooms, but there was no other way to describe her 'chopping technique', and he felt little guilt when Emmrich glared at him when he saw how drunk Rook had been.
Could teach. Her. Spite suggested in his mind. Teach. Rook!
"No," Lucanis grumbled lowly, trying to ignore the demon, which only aggravated the demon further. He tried his best to ignore Spite as he tended to the fire and dinner, but Lucanis couldn't stave off the intense headache that started to spread the longer he ignored him.
"Spite," a gently chiding voice cut through his argument with the demon. "You can't demand that Lucanis talk to me if he doesn't want to."
Lucanis whipped his head around, his cheeks reddening. "That's not what I -"
"It's okay," Rook waved him off, "I understand."
She offered him a tired but soft smile, one that, Maker help him, he didn't deserve, but before he could say another word, Rook had turned back around and trudged over to the tents, quietly disappearing into one. He watched as the tent flap settled behind her, the area around them quieting safe for the low crackle of wood and the bubbling frico. He could feel Spite's anger choking him, intertwining with his own as it all pointed towards himself like pointed ends of his daggers for yet again hurting Rook when that was the last thing she deserved after everything she did and continued to do for him and their team. He truly brought nothing but death and despair - he couldn't even be around his first love friend for a single minute without hurting her.
Pathetic. Spite yelled at him.
Lucanis couldn't help but agree for once.
Rook reemerged from her and Bellara's tent a couple minutes later when dinner was ready, her light armour removed and replaced by a pair of comfortable trousers and a light blouse in that typical Nevarran style she clearly preferred, greens and golds adorning her when really, Lucanis felt as that purples and blues suited her better - entirely unbiased, of course. Though Rook largely kept quiet and seemed to zone out when Bellara animatedly discussed several theories as to where the missing Veil Jumpers could possibly be, she still offered Lucanis another smile he still didn't deserve when he handed her a plate of dinner. He watched her as she absentmindedly stirred her food, occasionally taking small bites in between, the speedily setting sun bathing her in an almost otherworldly golden glow, and for the briefest of moments, his heart stuttered and lurched and became absorbed in her, and he tore his gaze away, lest he'd do something he'd regret.
Like hurting her.
Again.
Bellara prattled on, and though he tried (Maker, he tried ) to listen and nod along, his eyes kept drifting towards Rook, watching the way her shoulders curled inward and the way she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with fingers that trembled just a little. Another pang of guilt tore at him, her exhaustion clearly running far deeper than he had initially assumed, even though it didn't surprise him in the least, given how bullheadedly she tried to fix everyone's problems at the imminent end of the world - problems like Illario and Spite - whilst she kept drowning in the responsibilities all on her own. He should be ashamed he kept asking for help, Lucanis bitterly realised. Another part of him was relieved he didn't have to carry it all on his own.
When Rook offered to clean the plates after dinner, Lucanis only gently took them from her, telling her to go to sleep, that she needed rest and that he would handle it.
She had objected, of course. "You need rest too," she had huffed.
"And let Spite roam Arlathan unchecked?" Lucanis grimaced, shaking his head, "Don't worry about me, Rook. I'll be fine."
For the briefest of moments, she looked as if she'd have liked to fight him and coerce him into sleeping at least for a little while, but even her trust in Spite only ran so deep, so she conceded and walked to her tent, though not before turning around one more time and bidding him goodnight. Bellara joined her a couple of minutes later, leaving him alone as the sun had fully set, and it was only the campfire that illuminated their small camp.
If Arlathan forest was unnervingly strange during the day, it was positively eerie at night.
The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the space around them, but the thick canopy of the forest surrounding their clearing was devoid of any shadows or light and unnaturally still. The only sound he could make out was the crackling fire, no other sound travelling through the oppressing darkness. Lucanis wasn't sure if it was paranoia, honed instincts or the egregious lack of sleep that caused him to see things in the dark, but it almost felt as if something was watching beyond the periphery of his sight - whether it was the forest itself or something different altogether, he didn't know. Spite seemed mildly unsettled himself, murmuring strange phrases and pestering Lucanis as he usually did.
Smells like. rock. and. Something. else. Pungent! Something there.
"Would you stop it?" Lucanis hissed, his ever-present headache only growing between his demons' ramblings and the thick remnants of the Veil permeating the air, and despite his previous reassurance to Rook, he was tired , but he could not allow himself to fall asleep. If only to keep Rook - and Bellara - safe.
Spite clearly disagreed with him. Would not. leave. Rook.
"No, you would probably wake her up... or worse ."
His demon growled. Would not. hurt. Rook. We like. her. Only. watch her. Keep her. Safe.
"Absolutely not," Lucanis snarled before pushing himself from his position with a growl, running a hand through his hair and trying his best to ignore Spite.
He paced a couple of steps from the fire, though still close enough, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. Spite grumbled, clearly displeased, but Lucanis found he didn't care so long as the demon didn't get out. Frustated and exhausted, he decided to walk around the clearing for a bit, hoping that Spite would settle enough to at least leave him alone. He remained within proximity to the tents, close enough for him to be able to run should anything, or anyone, try to ambush them, though perhaps that was simply his paranoia speaking. His feet carried him over the rough terrain to the crumbled remnants of the old bridge, overlooking the shimmering lake below. The water gleamed like a blanket of diamonds under the luminous glow of the moon, strangely peaceful and decidedly less eerie than one would've assumed a lake to be at night.
Lucanis sighed, rubbing his hand over his face once more before taking a deep breath and sitting down at the edge. He let the silence wash over him, somewhat amused by how less threatening Arlathan seemed just a few steps further into the clearing. The lake was... peaceful. Serene. Or perhaps it simply reminded him of home, even though home smelled saltier and less pristine. He found solace, for a moment, feeling a gentle breeze brush against his skin as he lingered by the water’s edge. He carefully reached down for a second, feeling the fresh water between his fingertips, briefly relishing in the way the cool sensation felt between them.
Feels. nice.
"Yes, it does," Lucanis nodded.
For all their fighting and disagreements, there were a couple of things they did agree on like Rook, and Spite, despite having been forced into Lucanis' body beneath the sea, was somewhat fond of water. Or at least of baths in the Lighthouse. Perhaps it was because it relaxed Lucanis and thus, to some degree, also Spite. Or maybe the demon was just bizarre. Lucanis was inclined to believe the latter.
Not. weird. Just. like it.
Lucanis sighed again, unwilling to enter yet another discussion with the demon. He truly lacked the energy. He was suddenly hit with an idea, as he continued to feel the water between his fingers, looking back to see the tents and Arlathan were utterly still. It could be a nice reprieve, he thought. Not to mention a guarantee to get rid of any remains of Darkspawn stink, even if it likely still clung to his leathers. A swim sounded better by the minute, if he was honest with himself. His body ached for the weightlessness, for something clean , so without thinking about it any further, Lucanis rose from his place, tugging off his boots first, setting them neatly to the side. His belt, gloves, and leathers followed quickly, carefully, and methodically, as he removed his armour and clothing and left them in a small pile by the grass. He briefly debated leaving on his underclothes, but though it was warm, it wasn't nearly warm enough for them to dry before they had to head out in the morning. A quick glance behind revealed nothing but stillness, so with a sigh, he pulled them off, dropping them with a quiet thud before he silently moved down a crumbling slope toward the lake’s edge. The rocks were slick and uneven, but he was accustomed to worse and easily found his way into the water.
The lake rippled softly around his feet, and he briefly flinched at the cold before wading into the dark depths of the lake. His mind was oddly still for a moment, Spite seemingly content. With a silent exhale, Lucanis dove, the water closing around him like an embrace. For a suspended, breathless moment, there was nothing but the cool dark of the lake and the thunder of his own heartbeat. He kicked out, moving through the water and deeper into the waters, feeling weightless as everything - Spite, Illario, the Gods... Rook - felt distant, if only for a second.
Stars glittered in a vast, endless expanse, his mind entirely absorbed in the constellations above, even if he had never bothered to learn what they meant. The lake lapped quietly against his chest as Lucanis floated near the shallows, absorbed in the feel of the water and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
It was precisely why he didn't hear her, though Lucanis doubted his justification would've saved him from Caterina's cane, had she been around to see it.
"Lucanis?"
Rook!
His heart jolted, and he whipped himself around so fast that he'd nearly dunked himself under again. His eyes found Rook, standing barefoot next to his discarded clothing. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her blouse clinging to her body. Her expression was confused, concerned, and then her eyes widened and she quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat.
Lucanis had to fight the embarrassed heat that threatened to overtake him. "You... startled me."
"You're one to talk," she spluttered, eyes fixed firmly on the ground instead of his bare chest. "When I left the tent and couldn't see you anywhere, I thought... Honestly, I don't even know what I thought, but I-"
"Don't worry. I've got Spite under control."
Rook sighed. "It's not Spite I'm worried about."
Lucanis could practically feel his demon grin. She likes. Me. Trusts me.
"Oh," he only managed to say, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "I can swim just fine. No need to worry."
Rook snorted, shaking her head and uttering something underneath her breath he couldn't understand.
"What's that?"
"Nothing," she shook her head again, her eyes flickering upwards to the sky. She briefly hesitated before asking, "Aren't you cold?"
Lucanis looked at her dumbfounded. "No. It's actually... refreshing."
"Right, right," she muttered, "I, uh... bet it is."
"You can join me, if you'd like," he blurted out before he could stop himself, wincing when her head snapped towards him and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. If he had been any closer, he likely would've seen a furious blush across her cheeks and pointed ears. "Not like that," he immediately stuttered.
Like. What? Spite curiously asked.
"Not now, Spite," Lucanis hissed lowly, his eyes focused on Rook, whose mouth was frozen in the attempt to say anything. "I just - I just mean if you'd like to swim, you're welcome to join me," he pressed out, mentally castigating himself, knowing the Nevarran woman before him was most likely not used to communal bathing spaces (unless one counted the bath in the Lighthouses) and probably perceived a different kind of meaning from his well-intentioned invitation altogether. It was sometimes easy to forget how different Nevarrans and Antivans were, really.
"I -" she cleared her throat once, twice, before attempting to speak again. "Thank you, Lucanis. But I can't -"
He waved his hand. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"No, no, it's not that," she interrupted him again, her eyes flickering to the side. "It's just, well... I can't. Literally."
Lucanis furrowed his brow in confusion, unable to decipher Rook. "You... can't do what, exactly?"
"Swim," she eventually pressed out, an awkward laugh escaping her. "I can't swim."
The silence between them seemed to stretch endlessly, Lucanis speechless as his mind raced to catch up with this new information. Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him, given how careful she had always been to steer clear of any open bodies of water or at least navigate with a carefulness he wasn't accustomed to otherwise. It did surprise him, however, because what twenty-something-year-old (he really should've asked her how old she was) didn't know how to swim?
"You can't swim," he deadpanned.
He watched as she shook her head. "No. I nearly drowned as a child, funny story, really, and then I was too scared to learn, so my father never forced me to."
Lucanis wasn't quite sure whether to admonish Emmrich for failing to teach her in spite of her fear, unable to reconcile the more gentle approach with his own militant upbringing, but at least he could swim - even if there had probably been a better way to teach him and Illario than Caterina simply throwing them into the canals and telling them to "figure it out" as they splashed and flailed about. But at least he had never been at risk of drowning, which he now slowly realised was a very imminent threat for Rook.
"You can't swim," he pressed out once more, his voice firm as anger overtook him, pushing forward in the water, until he was standing, submerged to his waist as water cascaded down his chest.
Rook's brow furrowed. "That is what I literally just told you?"
Lucanis barked out a laugh, unable to quell the rising fury within him. "Rook, are you mad?! Nearly every place we visit has water. Arlathan, Hossberg, Rivian - Por la sangre del Hacedor, Treviso is practically built on the water! You rescued me from an underwater prison, and yet you're telling me you can't swim?!"
"I don't get why you're mad at me," she huffed, "I've survived just fine before. Not like swimming is a necessary skill in the Necropolis."
She was right, of course - but that was the problem. It might not have been a necessary skill in her home, but out in the world, it very much was a skill that could spell the difference between life and death, and Lucanis did not realise that Rook was a single misstep away from dying - or that he was a single misstep from losing her. If any of their enemies, Maker forbid, ever found out she couldn't swim, she'd be done for. An Antaam could easily pick her up and throw her into the water. A Venatori could easily push her back and into the water of the Docks. A mere duck from Darkspawn could end fatally. And if he wasn't quick enough, distracted by fighting their enemies, let alone not even around to jump after her, she'd drown, and he'd lose her forever. The vivid mental image of her - lifeless and blue, covered in petechiae and utterly still and limp, floating to the surface - was torturous . Lucanis had seen countless lifeless bodies in his lifetime, many of them by his own hand. He wasn't sure if he could survive seeing Rook that way.
NO, Spite immediately shouted, Rook. Safe! With us. Keep her. safe!
He wasn't often inclined to agree with his demon, Spite's "advice", more often idiotic than helpful, but he certainly agreed with him now.
"Mad?!" Lucanis pressed out, "Rook, I'm - you could've died countless times and you never even thought to mention you can't swim?!"
"Well, I haven't died yet ."
Lucanis snapped at her, "This isn't funny, Rook."
"Can you imagine?" she chuckled, Lucanis recognising the deflection for what it was. "Drowning before the gods get a chance to swing at me? That would probably make for some good headlines in the Tevinter news sheets. 'Bouyantly challenged Rook: The Unforeseen End to a -"
"Enough," Lucanis nearly shouted, his voice intertwining with Spites'.
Rook had shut up immediately, swallowing nervously. He almost felt bad. Almost. After a moment, she said, "I'm sure there are many people who can't swim. I'm hardly unique."
Lucanis let out a shuddering breath, collecting himself for a moment. "Maybe, but it's... Rook, until now, I didn't even know you couldn't swim. What if you had fallen into the water and-" his eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to eliminate the image of a drowned Rook from his thoughts.
"Are you... mad at me?" she meekly asked, brow furrowed.
"No," he quickly shook his head, "no, Rook. I'm not mad." I'm terrified of losing you.
Rook paused, considering his words. The tension in the air felt heavy, but there was also a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Lucanis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. There was a long pause. Then, quieter: "You need to learn how to swim, Rook."
"Lucanis, I don't know if you're aware, but I doubt the gods will pause their plans long enough for me to take swimming lessons," she snorted, before grimacing. "Besides, I don't think we have the time to -"
He interrupted her again. "Then we'll make time."
For a moment, they stood locked in a silent standoff, their eyes locked together, each unwilling to be the first to relent, but Lucanis would be damned to survive a year under Zara Renata, and the relentless punishments doled out by Caterina only to yield even a fraction of an inch now. He would rather withstand the storm of consequences. " Please , Rook."
Her expression softened, the fight draining from her. "Fine," she sighed, "I'll... find a way to learn how to swim."
"I'll teach you," he said quietly, almost too fast, ignoring Spite's instantaneous enthusiasm at the suggestion. He tried to rationalise it in his mind - that by him teaching her, he could ensure she'd be taught appropriately, in a timely manner. Immediately, if he had his way.
Rook blinked at him. "What?"
"I'll teach you," he reiterated, "we can figure this out. Together."
"Okay," she nodded, "I uh... when?"
"No time like the present," he shrugged, almost terrified to think that she could drown tomorrow , no matter how improbable it was for her to learn how to swim in one single night.
We can. teach her , Spite excitedly exclaimed. Teach Rook. Keep her. safe.
"Ah," Rook cleared her throat, "there's just the thing, though. I don't have any... swimming attire ."
It was Lucanis's turn to flush, and he was thankful that the night obscured him well enough for Rook to hopefully not see him turn beet-red. He cleared his throat a couple of times, feeling strangely parched. "N-neither do I," he eventually choked out.
Swimming attire? Spite asked in his mind. Whats. that?
"Something to... preserve modesty," Lucanis quietly told him.
Modesty? Why. not swim. naked?
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," Lucanis shot out, "Spite is just... confused. He doesn't understand why..."
"Ah," Rook let out flatly, "Well, I suppose any spirit would find the concept of clothing strange, let alone clothing for different occasions. I remember when Manfred first started settling into his bones, he was fascinated by clothes, but didn't understand why we'd change them. It was almost funny, you know? He looked so confused, but he was so curious. I think I might have -"
Under any other circumstance, Lucanis would have been endeared by Rook's stories of her life before she left Nevarra, but just then, he was feeling irritated and impatient enough for her to simply get in, so he could at least teach her how to float and not immediately drown.
"Just get in. We'll find a way to dry your clothes," Lucanis sighed.
Her lips formed a tight line, a clear indication that she was deep in thought as she carefully considered his words. For several moments, she remained lost in her own contemplation, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration. Finally, a soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible, as she muttered something under her breath, as if trying to sort through the thoughts swirling in her mind. Lucanis only cocked his head before he heard her say: "Could you... turn around?"
Her words hit him like a cold bucket of water, his veins briefly turning into ice. "T-turn around?"
Rook shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. "I don't... I really don't want to get these wet and -"
"Got it, got it," Lucanis waved her off, "Are you sure?"
"No," Rook sighed reluctantly, gnawing at her lip. "But I trust you. A-and it's pretty common in Antiva, right? So it's not... it's not weird to you, is it?"
Lucanis was sure his face was on fire. "Yes, but I'm more concerned with your comfort."
"It'll be fine," she waved him off, though the slight waver in her voice told him she was anything but comfortable, but he found himself unable to argue any further, so he simply turned around, desperately trying to ignore the rustling of clothes behind him.
It was just to teach her to swim safely, he kept telling himself. Just swimming lessons, just swimming lessons, just swimming lessons - like a chant, over and over.
Rook is. taking OFF her. clothes. Lucanis wasn't sure whether or not Spite was excited or downright inappropriate (did his demon even understand what was going on?), but he regretted his decision to offer swimming lessons almost instantly, worrying Spite would try to touch Rook when she absolutely hadn't consented to it or hurt her in some other twisted way . If Spite took over and pulled her under, she wouldn't have a chance to fight, and she'd die by his hand, and like everyone else in his life, she would -
Wouldn't hurt. Rook. Spite hissed angrily, the twisted visage of his demon appearing in front of him. Only protect. Keep safe .
Lucanis tried to breathe deeply to calm his racing heart, but as yet another item of clothing dropped into the grass, his breath hitched again, and he saw Spite leering over his shoulder like a lecherous old man, the demons' eyes almost glinting with something that was part glee, part hunger. Whether it was hunger for affection, for touch, or for chaos, he didn’t know - and that terrified Lucanis.
"Leave her alone," Lucanis hissed intently, "she's just here to learn how to swim."
Now Spite was almost pouting , which was even worse. I just want. to. see. Rook.
Lucanis groaned in annoyance, taking yet another deep breath before he finally heard soft footsteps wandering down the crumbling slope. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the moonlit water, jaw tight, fists clenched beneath the surface, trying to ignore the onslaught of warped and strange emotions, as his stomach churned violently and the cool water felt suddenly suffocating. The footsteps finally paused; Lucanis assumed she had reached the edge of the water, hesitating to tread in. The pause lingered for longer than he would've anticipated, nothing but the hush of Arlathan surrounding the two of them, when finally the sound of feet stepping into water reached his ears.
A quiet shriek escaped Rook. "Scheiße ist das kalt."
Lucanis chuckled lowly, forcing his breathing to even out, though it endeared him to hear her revert to Nevarran. He didn't speak the language, but he could venture to guess what she had said. He turned his back more fully to where Rook was. He dared not glance over his shoulder, not now, not when she might be -
Inhaling deeply once more, he shook his head as if to physically dismiss the tantalisingly welcome unwelcome images that began to form in his mind, determined to keep his thoughts focused and clear. She's your friend, he reminded himself. She's your friend, and you've promised her you'd keep her safe .
"It gets better once you're fully in," he lowly called out, hoping she'd hear him.
Rook only grumbled, but seemed to heed his words as he heard her wade in deeper, coming closer and closer until -
Smells like. tea and. moss. A hint of. fear too.
"I'm still unsure if that's a compliment," Rook chuckled nervously, and Lucanis finally turned around to face her.
She stood with her arms crossed tightly over her body, the icy water lapping at her chest and sending shivers down her spine. Her posture was tense and defensive, every muscle seemingly alert to the cold that enveloped her. Despite the chill, her purple eyes sparkled with a steely resolve, filled with determination, and Lucanis momentarily forgot his surroundings, his mouth dropping open slightly. Her long hair floated around her shoulders, partially submerged and glistening, as it clung to her milky skin, which almost seemed to glow in the moonlight as the water glistened against her skin.
Lucanis wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone more beautiful.
He gulped, heart thrumming erratically, and his mouth dried like autumn leaves. They simply stood and stared at each other for Maker knows how long, Spite suspiciously quiet and almost... absent. Lucanis isn't sure what Rook saw in his eyes - wonder, astoundment, veneration - but whatever she glimpsed caused her to pause, and he could see her cheeks redden, the blush spreading down her chest and disappearing beneath her arms.
He gently holds out his hand. "Shall we?"
"Do I have a choice?" she grimaced, tightening her arms around her, and only then did he realise she seemed scared; the chill of the lake not the only thing causing her to shiver.
"Rook," Lucanis said, "I promise you nothing is going to happen."
"See you say that..." she hesitates, instinctively retreating back a couple of steps.
He follows her. He'd follow her anywhere. "I won't let you drown," he tells her, solemn and without hesitation.
"You promise?" she asks, and he nods immediately.
"I swear on my life."
He watches as Rook takes a single grounding breath, lowering one of her hands and allowing herself to reach for Lucanis, and he swears his heart soars when she allows herself to be guided a little further into the lake. Her hand was softer than he had imagined, warm and gentler than anything that had ever touched him, and the slight tremor immediately settled in his calloused grip. He squeezes her hand reassuringly, hopeful the simple gesture conveys everything he fails to say.
I'm here. I'm proud of you. I've got you - always.
She gives him a small smile in return, hesitant but genuine, and Lucanis hoped it was trusting enough. Her arm around her chest tightened, even as they waded deeper, and the water came up to Rook's shoulders. He stopped for a moment, allowing her to acclimatise to being in the water. He gives her an encouraging nod, still holding her hand and Maker, was it a soft hand , and she gradually releases the hold on her chest, taking deep, calming breaths and allowing her fingers to run through the water. Lucanis does his best to force himself to focus on her face and not her bare skin, a task that his demon seems intent on making more difficult.
Pretty Rook.
Rook giggled, her smile widening. "Thank you, Spite."
"Don't encourage him," Lucanis groaned, his face still heated, even if his demon was right. She was pretty.
"Spite won't hurt me," she insisted, a phrase he had heard time and time again, but no matter her expertise in spirits or the fade, Lucanis refused to trust the demon just the tiniest bit. He had to live with him, after all. The first-hand experience he's had with him was more than enough to convince him he was dangerous.
No. Not dangerous. Rook is. Rook. Not. Enemy.
"That's right, Spite," Rook smiled, "I'm not your enemy."
Lucanis grumbled, trying to ignore Spite's entirely too pleased visage. "Let's just focus on this for now."
Rook pulled a face, her eyes darting down, then back up at him. Her mouth opened, like she might say something, another joke, maybe, but she only offered a resigned sigh and nodded, looking at Lucanis with a strange mix of expectation and apprehension. Lucanis gently took her second hand in his, briefly hesitating before tracing reassuring circles into the back of her hand when he felt her shivering. He briefly wondered where to start. Clearly, he couldn't use Caterina's preferred method of "teaching" - perhaps teaching her to float first? At least that might give her the most basic survival skill.
The water swirled gently around them, lapping at their skin when Lucanis finally continued. "We'll start slow, by getting you to float." He felt Rook tense again, and he immediately felt called to reassure her. "It's alright," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've got you."
He could practically taste the unease coursing through her, and he almost started to feel bad for having pushed this on her in the middle of the night, in unfamiliar waters in the middle of Arlathan. Whatever happened when she was a child must have terrified her enough to still terrify her as an adult, for he had seen her charge into battle without so much as a thought to her own life - fearless and indomitable. The trembling woman in front of him was anything but. Perhaps one day he'd ask her.
"Ready?"
"No," she squeaked out, clenching her eyes shut and tightening her grip on his hands.
He eased back slightly, hands sliding up her arms and ignoring just how wonderful it was to touch her and - "I'll hold you through it, Rook. Start by leaning back against me. Let the water hold you - I'll make sure it does."
She nodded hesitantly, eyes still clenched. "Okay. Okay."
"Good," he murmured, "Now, bend your knees a little... yes, just like that. You're doing well. Now lean back - slowly. I'll hold you."
Her body tensed instantly the moment her spine began to arch, muscles locking in fear. "Nope, nope - Lucanis I -"
"You're fine," he assured her, catching her under the arms and painfully gently adjusting her, reminded of her state of undress as his hands grazed the sides of what he believed definitely might have been her supple bosom. His face promptly flared red, and he had to suppress the choking sound that threatened to escape him.
Whats. that? Strange pillow?
"Not now, Spite," he hissed, mortified, but a brief glance downward revealed Rook hadn't so much as opened her eyes, still tightly locked in his arms and terrified. "Rook, please - you're buoyant. You will float if you stop fighting it. Trust me."
"I'll die," she whimpered. "I'll sink like a rock to the bottom and die in the middle of Arlathan, and I won't even be granted a proper burial because who would pull out the corpse of a disgraced Mourn Watcher from a lake in Arlathan and -"
He snorted despite himself. "Rook, you aren't. going. to. die. I swear. And if you do, I'll personally retrieve your body and return it to Nevarra." It was utterly dramatic of her, of course, and he'd sooner drown himself than let her drown, but it seemed to do the trick, as she finally opened one eye and looked at him pleadingly.
"You would?"
"Yes," he chuckled under his breath.
"…Fine," Rook finally muttered, somewhat forcing herself to relax in his hold and taking a deep breath. "Erbauer hab Erbarmen."
Lucanis chuckled and shook his head. Nevarrans .
His hands stayed firmly beneath her back before moving under her thighs, slowly supporting her weight in the water. Slowly, he straightened his arms beneath her and began to ease her backwards into a floating position. Rook gasped, tensing again as her pointed ears dipped under and the lake tickled her hair.
"Breathe," he told her softly. "The more air in your lungs, the better."
She heeded his advice, slowly taking measured and deep breaths, though the rattled sound and the tension in her body and face betrayed her nerves. He'd take the win for what it was, though, smiling softly as he focused on her face.
Anything to not look at her chest, slowly rising and falling, her nipples peaking out from the water, tantalisingly surrounded by the clear water that lapped at her rhythmically and caressed her in ways he would have loved to caress her himself; her hair fanned out like spilt ink across a silver page as the moonlight illuminated her from within -
Lucanis cleared his throat, "Good. Now spread your arms and legs - yes, perfect. The more surface you cover, the better."
He supported her carefully, muscles tense but steady, water cradling her alongside his touch. Her arms and legs slowly extended from her body, sprawling out against the water, hoping his presence - his touch - was steadying enough.
"You're doing beautifully, Rook," he whispers, keeping his eyes on her tense face and clenched eyes. A small giggle escapes her then, and Lucanis can't help but smile earnestly when he finally feels her relax.
Possibly emboldened by his early success, he gradually withdrew one hand from her back, letting her balance shift slightly. Unfortunately, however, Rook seemed to sink right with it, and her legs instinctively buckled in panic, flailing and splashing as she let out a terrified shriek. He hasn't even a second to react until suddenly he finds himself with her bosom pressed tightly against him, her arms locked tightly around his neck like a vice, and her legs slipping and sliding against his waist in her desperate scramble for a lifeline. Her nails were digging into his back as she clung to him, pressing herself further into him with no care for dignity.
Somewhere in between, Lucanis could discern Spite yelling at him to do something , but he felt paralysed, both in fear of quite literally being choked to death and in the electrifying sensation of feeling her naked skin upon his. Within a second, his arms found their way around her waist, holding her close and gently trying to at least comfort her enough for her grip around his neck to loosen. Rook, to her credit, or perhaps to her current terror, was too focused on not dying to notice his internal collapse. She clung to him with the full force of her body and will, pressing closer still, her skin slick against his own, her breath hot and shallow against the crook of his neck. Lucanis tried his Maker hardest to not fixate on the way her skin felt against his - gentle and warm and tantalising - or how lovely she smelled even after a day spent in Arlathan, but each second she scrambled closer only weakened his resolve.
"Rook," he eventually choked out, "I need you to loosen your grip, or otherwise we're both going under."
Why not. keep her close? Skin against. skin. feels. nice. You. enjoy it.
"Spite, I swear -" Lucanis growled, teeth bared, as he began to carefully, very carefully, adjust his hold on Rook.
You like. it. Spite huffed like a petulant child. Like. feeling her -
"Enough," Lucanis hissed through gritted teeth. "Wilhelmina, please . You're safe."
The use of her name, her real name, finally pulled her out of it, a small whimper escaping her, but she did pull away just enough to blink at him, teary-eyed and rapidly breathing. Lucanis swallowed, their faces impossibly close, as close as they had been that night, and he stared at her for a moment, beautiful but frightened purple eyes staring into his. Suddenly having her close didn't seem like it was enough - he wanted to be absorbed in her cosmos until he had unravelled each and every mystery it held, mapping her soft skin with his rough and calloused hands whilst he stared into her eyes and -
His mind kicked into overdrive, and he pulled back, trying to move her arms to his shoulders, so at least she wasn't on the verge of cutting off his airflow anymore. It seemed that Roo- Wilhelmina's consciousness returned, her face suddenly flushed and mortified and acutely aware of exactly how she was wrapped around him. Her arms loosened minutely, her legs shifting, but not leaving him entirely. Her breath was shaky as she tried to regain composure.
"I -" she stammered, trying to pull back but failing due to the slippery nature of panic, water, and Lucanis' hands still wrapped tightly around her. "Lucanis, I am - I didn't mean to... I was just -"
"You panicked," he nodded, his own breathing strangely shallow. "It's... fine. You're fine." He paused, then added, voice a bit hoarser, "Though I can't say I thought I'd meet my end being drowned."
She made a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob. "I'm so sorry, Lucanis. I didn't - I wasn't trying to- I didn't realise I'd -"
"Wilhelmina, it's fine," he said again, voice firmer this time, as he tried to ignore the absolute ache in his chest from the way her slick skin brushed against his with every tiny movement. "I should've warned you I was going to let go."
She groaned, burying her face in his shoulder. "You must think I'm an absolute idiot."
"Idiot? No," he chuckled, his heartbeat picking up as her warm breath tickled his skin. "I will definitely warn you next time, though."
Another whimper escaped her. "Next time?"
"You're not getting off that easily," he told her dryly. "Not until you're at least floating."
"Wäre ja zu schön gewesen," she grumbled, tightening her grip on him again, shivering.
"What was that?" Lucanis laughed.
"Would've been nice," she repeated, finally pulling back enough to look at him. Her hair was plastered to her face, her lips pursed in embarrassment, her eyes almost pleading.
"Come on," he muttered, trying to move her from his arms.
Wilhelmina begrudingly acquiesed, loosening her grip and sliding from his body. He suddenly felt a lot colder than he had seconds before, a chill settling in his bones; his arms loosening their hold on her, setting her down and taking her hand in his. She wiped water from her face and gave him a sheepish, flushed look, before taking a measured breath and nodding at him.
"Same as before," he cleared his throat. "I'll hold you up."
He adjusted her into position again. She tensed, but Lucanis soothed her with a hand at the small of her back, the action as natural as breathing. He eased her back again, palms cradling her spine and knees with care. She was shaking and stiffened, but she didn't trash or flail - much to Lucanis' relief. He watched as she instinctively followed his earlier guidance, her arms and legs spreading out gracefully, and she began floating in his hold, hair rippling across the surface like ink. He allowed her a moment to adjust, for her breathing to even out. His eyes were focused on her face, taking in every twitch and twinge, eyes staring up at the starry sky in wonder, her lips parted just slightly in disbelief.
"How beautiful," she breathed out, steadily relaxing in his hold.
Lucanis couldn't help but smile. "I will let go now, okay?"
Her wide eyes found his, shimmering with uncertainty, but she nodded as best as she could with her head halfway submerged in water.
Spite grumbled at him. Don't let. Rook. sink.
Lucanis sighed in exasperation. "I won't let her sink, Spite," before gradually withdrawing one hand from her back, letting her balance shift slightly. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flail - her arms and legs stayed outstretched, hair still fanned out around her, eyes wide as the moonlight gleamed on her skin. She looked both shocked and utterly enchanted.
"I'm going to move the other hand now," he gently warned her, withdrawing the second hand that had been holding her up, allowing her to float on her own. He continued to hover close, hands nearby and ready to catch her again - but he didn't have to.
She was floating.
Moonlight danced across her skin. Her chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. Her legs drifted lazily beneath the surface, and her eyes, wide and open and oh so curious, shone with childish glee.
"I'm doing it," she gasped, lashes wet, lips curled with soft disbelief. "I'm actually doing it."
"Yes, you are," he whispered, eyes never straying from her.
She grinned at him, bright and dazzling; it was a smile he couldn't help but return, her energy infectious. She immediately began to sink the moment she got excited, her excitement causing her to lose focus, and he lunged forward to catch her again - hands beneath her back, holding her up once more. She was laughing this time, even as she spluttered and pushed wet hair from her face.
He huffed a soft breath. "Are you alright?"
"I was floating!" she cheered, turning herself around to look into Lucanis' eyes, entirely ignoring his concern. "I was actually floating!"
Lucanis chuckled, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers and feeling himself getting lost in her joy. As a child, he had been tossed into the water time and again, a necessary rite of passage that had forced him to master the art of swimming; Caterina definitely would never have been satisfied with a mere brief float, let alone one he had been aided with. But he felt proud of Roo- Wilhelmina for (perhaps foolishly) placing her trust in him and facing her fear. And perhaps he also felt proud of himself.
For once, she had been right to trust him, and for once, he hadn't hurt her.
Told you. Spite interrupted his thoughts. Protect. Rook.
He'd decided to call it a night then, unwilling to push their luck any further and hopefully allowing her a few precious moments of rest, even if the sun was bound to rise in mere hours. Wilhelmina left the lake first, still exuberant in her, albeit modest, victory, Lucanis' eyes trailing her until her backside nearly exposed itself to his gaze. Flushing with embarrassment, he quickly averted his eyes, his heart racing wildly as an unexpected warmth spread through him, leaving him both exhilarated and unsettled. He gave her a couple of minutes to collect herself, though he found them to be just as useful to calm his racing heart and force himself to forget how warm her skin felt against -
He found her in front of the fire, shivering and clearly exhausted, hair wet and sticking to her face and neck, but beaming at him when he finally joined her, armour uncomfortably sticking to him. Before he could sit down, he removed his cloak, wrapping it around her shivering body, hopeful it would warm her up enough until the fire sufficiently dried her hair and clothes. He didn't miss the scarlet flush that rushed up her cheeks and pointed ears, looking down into her eyes as his heart thumped erratically once again.
"Thank you," she quietly croaked out, wrapping the fabric tighter around her smaller body, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He felt a surge of warmth in his chest, unable to turn her down. With a gentle sigh, he settled onto the ground beside her, their legs brushing against each other as the fire warmed them up.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, staring into the flames, Spite quiet, though Lucanis could see him settled next to Wilhelmina with a large, unsettling grin on his face. It was a small mercy she could only hear him, not see him.
"Lucanis?" she eventually broke the silence, turning her face to look at him.
"Hm?"
She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you."
His breath hitched slightly at the words, soft, genuine, entirely unexpected in their simplicity. He looked down at her, curls still damp and clinging to her cheeks, moonlight making her eyes seem impossibly deep. It undid him more than he'd likely ever admit. "Whatever for?"
"For teaching me to swim, uh, float," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Right," he said quietly. "You don't need to thank me."
Her brow creased, but the smile stayed. "I do, Lucanis. You didn't have to..." she trailed off, shrugging lightly in the glow of the fire.
I did, he wanted to say. I did, so I can be sure you'd be safe. Instead, he just swallowed hard. "You're my... friend, Wilhelmina. I'll teach you how to properly swim next time."
A flash of something he couldn't name crossed her face, gone in an instant. "Strange to hear my name from you," she chuckled quietly, staring back into the flames.
"Oh," Lucanis' face blanched, "Do - do you want me to-"
"No, no," she interrupted him. Then, quieter, almost indiscernible, "I... I like it."
"Oh," he could feel his face heating up. "R-right then."
Spite decided to insert himself again. Can I call. Rook. Wilhelmina too?
This time, Wilhelmina laughed, bright and scarcely contained, possibly reminded of the fact that Bellara was still sleeping in the tent not too far from them. "Yes, Spite," she giggled, turning to look from where she had heard his voice emerge. "You can call me Wilhelmina, too."
Lucanis grunted, arching his eyebrow in distrust at his unwilling companion. "You really shouldn't trust a demon so easily with your own name."
"Spirit," she corrected him, as she and Emmrich had done many times before. "He's a spirit."
Lucanis had known that Nevarrans had a... peculiar understanding of those beyond the Veil, but it had always struck him as odd, especially with how insistent both were that Spite was a spirit like Manfred was.
"I will never understand you Nevarrans," he sighed, shaking his head. "Everyone else in Thedas calls him a demon."
"There is no such thing as a demon," she told him, tone far too familiar to Emmrich's, especially when he lost himself to explanations, years of teaching experience coursing through him like second nature. "Corrupted spirits, yes. But there are no demons. A person whose emotions become... corrupted is still fundamentally the same; no matter if devotion turns into fanaticism or determination into spite. Spirits are simply echoes of that."
It was the first time she had explained it to him, and Lucanis blinked hard, trying to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat. Even Spite seemed dazed, and Lucanis could only avert his gaze again, the two falling silent once more.
Lucanis wasn't quite sure how long they had continued to sit there, but the flames had almost dried him entirely, mere residual moisture clinging to his curls. Wilhelmina's presence was a quiet, grounding sense; the air that had previously felt suffocating no longer threatened to choke him with every breath. The sky had started to lighten, a speck of sun rising in the far east, and Arlathan became less eerie with each passing second. He could see the dark shadows of the surrounding trees gradually fading. It was a moment of serenity, before they would have to set out again to fight whichever evil entity came their way; Darkspawn, Demon or Venatori. The thought of the Tevinter fanatics caused Lucanis to stop in his tracks, reminded of a question that would likely linger in his mind for a long time.
"Why did you save me?" He asked, his voice cracked and raw.
"Hm?" Wilhelmina hummed, looking at him with tired eyes.
His eyes found hers. "Why did you save me? From the Ossuary, even though you can't swim?" The unspoken words lingered between them. Why did you risk your life for me? I am not worth dying for.
"You needed help," she shrugged, as if she hadn't rushed headfirst into an underwater Venatori prison for a complete stranger, not even knowing if he'd be alive. "Besides, I didn't think there was any backing out on your grandmother, especially after she shared your uh... location with us."
Lucanis snorted, shaking his head. "She tended to have that effect, yes."
"And," Wilhelmina continued, small grin on her lips, "I really needed that mage killer."
Whilst Lucanis didn't doubt that, he also found it entirely impossible to think of Wilhelima (it would seriously require some time to get used to calling her that), forcing him to come along, her offer for him to remain in Treviso after they had returned from the Ossuary felt strikingly sincere. If he had requested to stay, to untangle the complicated web of his troubled family life and take the time he needed to regain his sense of self, she would've accepted it without a second thought and gone her merry way. He was glad, however, to have come with her, for no matter how treacherous their journey had been, at least he had met her. So he smiled at her instead and said the only thing he could think of: "Thank you."
"Whatever for?" she mirrored his earlier words, tone teasing.
"For saving my life."
She seemed to hesitate for a second, contemplating her words, before offering a smile. Her hand reached out to his, and she tentatively placed her palm gently over his, almost as if she were afraid - like a delicate bird unsure of landing. He should have pulled away, reminded her that they can't - that he can't - but her gentle touch soothed an ache that had long lodged itself into his bones, and it was innocent enough for him to at least pretend it was nothing more than a mere expression of comfort offered to a friend. Because that was all it had to be. "For what it's worth," she gently whispered, "I'm glad I did."
Lucanis could only swallow, looking back towards the rising sun. "So am I."
She let her hand remain to rest on his, and for once, Lucanis couldn't find it in himself to pull away, selfishly allowing himself to pretend.
Just for a little while.