Chapter Text
Rook was so late. Jogging down the street, she kept imagining the ways that Neve would tease and scold her for once again losing track of time inside the Forum. She grinned to herself, all silliness and a full row of teeth on display for any Dock Town citizen to see and think her a mad woman. She couldn't bring herself to care, thoughts of the darling of Dock Town aka Neve Gallus, filled her with warmth and joy that she was not about to hide from, or take for granted.
It had been difficult after the dragon attack on Minrathous. Rook felt responsible for what happened, both in failing to reach the city on time, and unleashing this whole nightmare to begin with. Neve felt betrayed, rightfully so, thinking that Rook didn't care about the city. That she didn't care about her.
To make matters worse, Neve had been right about the Venatori seizing control of the city in the chaos of the attack. Murdered civilians and Shadows hanging in the street. Fear coating every inch of Dock Town, it was all too much to bear. Rook might have lost herself in the guilt of the situation if not for the support of her companions, who encouraged her to focus on winning small battles in regards to Minrathous. Help someone find shelter after their home was destroyed. Clear blight blocking supplies into the city. Escort a scared widow back to their home. Or help a local detective track down missing civilians. Every single person saved was a piece of atonement earned.
Since then, Neve seemed lighter, at least where Rook was concerned. Sure, there was still the edge to her personality, sharper than it was when they first met, but there had been signs of the mage softening. Longing glances Neve sent Rook's way when she thought no one was looking. Or a soft greeting every time Rook visited her study.
At first, Rook thought she may have been imagining these instances, especially recalling Neve's fury at the fate of Minrathous. As they happened more regularly, she found herself seeking the mage out as often as possible to check in, share stories, or play cards. Rook felt a real shift when she and Neve encountered the blood mage Aelia while tracking down Makal Damas. Rook at been determined to help solve the case, and even though Aelia escaped for the moment, she felt encouraged where Neve was concerned.
Rook, you turning up today... it's not the first time.
Maybe you're not that lost. More likely we both are.
As she walked from the study that day, practically floating back to her chambers, it was as clear to her as the Fade sky at the lighthouse: Rook was in love with Neve.
Now, her companion was an incredibly difficult person to read, both at Wicked Grace and where she was emotionally. It had been hard to figure out if Neve could possibly feel the same, or if these brief moments of affection were just examples of Neve's caring personality. So while would not be denying her feelings, she had no immediate plans to act on them. Besides, Neve's mind was already occupied to capacity when Dock Town's citizens started disappearing without Rook adding her feelings to the mix.
This changed rather quickly when the mage took her to skip rocks on the pier in an attempt to clear her mind. She would later learn that Rook was one of the things that needed clarity.
This is crazy.
What?
Getting mixed up with me. Or that... or that I want you to.
It turns out, Rook wasn't imagining Neve's longing glances, just as she did not imagine the detective bounding forward and kissing her right there on the docks. Well, maybe she imagined it again afterwards. Repeatedly.
Since then, everything and nothing changed between them. Rook helped Neve work her case, and Neve continued to look out for Rook and the rest of their companions. Except now, the long nights in the study were charged with a different energy, seen in a different light. Rook felt emboldened, and she sought Neve out with touch quite frequently. A hand across the mages's shoulders as she sat at her desk. A lock of hair gently brushed aside during shared a conversation, or a warm palm on an even warmer thigh as they sat pressed close together.
Not to be out-done by the elf, Neve's behaviour shifted in some ways as well. Rook found that the physical proximity had vanished as Neve found ways to stand impossibly close to her at all times. Neve towered over Rook, leaning nose to nose on occassion, speaking in low tones that made Rook's head spin in the best way. The way her deep brown eyes bore into her when she glanced up over her notes could make Rook stop speaking mid-sentence and forget every word she's ever known. Neve also had a delightfully fond expression reserved for the instances where she surprised Rook with a kiss. Brown eyes would soften, her head tilting slightly as she regarded Rook. A smile crawled onto her face that was part warmth, part trust, and a little disbelief. It's this expression that's on Rook's mind today as she strolls down the street, grinning like a lovesick idiot.
With the lift in sight, Rook was about to start preparing an explanation as to why she was so late when she noticed a Venatori speaking to a blonde woman on the street. Though she couldn't really hear anything, she could tell from their body language that this wasn't a social conversation. The Venatori stepped in close to the young woman, leaning over her in a way that made Rook's skin crawl. Her own steps quickened.
"Leave her alone," Rook called as she reached the pair. Her eyes cut to the other two Venatori guards standing under the arch, watching and waiting.
"Mind your business."
"You harassin' this girl? That is my business."
The Venatori sneered at Rook, stepping close into the elf's space now too. "Let me refresh your memory, vermin. The Venatori own Dock Town. That includes everyone in it. Those suspected of being Shadow Dragon sympathizers are given... extra attention."
Rook looked to the blonde briefly. The woman shrank in fear, but still found her voice: "My neighbour delivers bread, maybe some of her patrons are Shadows, but I don't-"
The woman's voice was cut off sharply as the Venatori's hand flew backwards to strike her cheek. The blow took her by surprise and she stumbled down from the force of it.
Something snapped in Rook's mind, audible as the crack of the Venatori's gloved fist against this girl's unsuspecting face. The cruelty and injustice of the past few weeks flashed in her minds eye.
Venatori controlling the city.
Bodies of civilians piled carelessly in carts on the streets.
Shadow Dragon's hanging in the Chantry, out in the open.
The terror in this young woman's eyes.
She would stand by no longer.
Before another thought crossed her mind, Rook surged forward finding her mageknife one moment, and plunging it into the chest of the Venatori the next.
She was dimly aware of the other guards whistling for back-up and charging down the street to get to her. Adrenaline pumped in Rook's long ears as she pushed the now dead cultist off her blade and onto the ground.
"Get to safety!" She heard herself say.
Rook panted as looked to the Venatori now lying beneath her. Blood from his wound soaking his dark robes rather quickly, his body twitching for only a moment before going still. Rook heard nothing but her own deep breaths and the patter of rain as she returned the mageknife to her waist. She looked up with the intention of finding the young woman who the Venatori had struck, instead she saw a group of red and black robes racing to surround her on the small street. Her ears picked up the sound of three more behind her brandishing their weapons, while four sped down the archway, and several others blocked the street to her left.
She was going to be very late.
The Venatori taunted and threatened her, though Rook didn't hear over the sizzling of her own magic gathering strength. The instant the cult members charged, Rook threw both arms to her sides, calling upon a tempest storm to blanket the area in lightning.
As the ground began to rumble, Rook drew her staff and watched lightning bolts strike several Venatori in the small area, cutting down their numbers in a flash. The elf spun her weapon in a quick circle in front of her before wheeling around, shooting chain lightning at the Venatori behind her. The smell of burning hit hard as her magic struck true, the cultist rangers convulsing from electric shock before hitting the ground, incapacitated.
A Venatori warrior, who had managed to dodge her tempest strikes on nimble feet, attacked quickly. Rook turned to the left just in time to block the heavy sword strike with her staff held horizontal of her. The clang of steel against wood vibrated across the shaft of her weapon, shaking both hands that held tight.
Rook grunted as she pushed hard against the warrior, forcing them back a step. This gave her distance to blast another bolt of lightning forward. At such close range, the force and impact of her own magic caused Rook to stagger backwards, and right into the blade of a rogue that snuck around behind her in the chaos.
Rook cried out when the knife entered her shoulder, black spots prickling her vision. She felt the Venatori rogue grab a fist full of her tunic and draw her backwards. Rook staggered into their body, then quickly drove the pommel of her staff down onto their toes. Fortunately, when the rogue released Rook, they had the sense to take the knife out with them. Unfortunately, the rogue also carried a sickle in their off-hand, and slashed the blade across Rook's abdomen.
She felt the breath leave her lungs as the rogue inflicted an objectively good hit against her. Rook thought she might be in some trouble when she found herself falling hard onto her knees. Her eyes darted around trying to see who was left.
A rogue, a warrior, and a few mages were all that stood between her and safety. A big task with her injuries doubling in mere moments. Tempest bolts continued to light up the sky around them, forcing the Venatori to use caution rather than attack all at once.
When she felt the Venatori rogue approach her again for what was no doubt the killing blow, Rook spun on her knees and swung her staff in a large arc as hard as she could. The serpent stone on the top of her staff cracked and snapped on impact, sending shards tumbling to the ground.
No time to congratulate herself or mourn the damage to her weapon, Rook had to be alert as the mages finally entered the fight, both sending fireballs towards the elf. The tightness in her shoulder and abdomen affected her mobility, and while Rook was able to roll away from one spell, the other magister struck true. The fire burned a hole in the light tunic she wore and the skin on her back was screaming almost as much as Rook herself was.
Deeming her subdued, the Venatori group approached her. Not to be killed lying on her stomach if she could help it, Rook used her staff for support on standing, taking a moment to frown at the broken state of her weapon.
"It's over, Shadow," the Venatori magister had said. "Do not resist, and you will be spared execution for your crimes."
Rook wheezed out a laugh, clutching her abdomen. "That's kind of you. And the catch is...?"
"Our mistress is in need of powerful mages. You will join her cause. Willingly, of course."
"Of course, yeah." She couldn't worry about who or what that was right now. "Can I think about it?"
Rook's slipped her hand from her abdomen to her mageknife, drawing the weapon quickly before throwing it squarely into the head of the rogue that slashed her. Impressive considering her hand was slick with her own blood and her vision was becoming more skewed by the minute.
Rook turned to make her last stand against the remaining Venatori and was met with the business end of the magister's staff. Pain erupted from her cheek as the blunt impact of their weapon sent Rook twisting painfully to the ground once again. Blood dripped from her face into cracks of the stone street, washing away with the help of the rain. She managed to raise herself to her knees, but no further, breathing heavily as the group surrounded her again.
"Surrender. This is your final chance." One of the mages stopped in front of Rook, offering his hand.
"Magister?" The shield warrior was in disbelief, "she continues to defy us! She should be executed, not offered a place at our Lady's side."
Rook wheezed out a breath as they spoke. She could feel her head lull to one side, the voices of the two cultists seemed to be absorbed by the ringing in her own ears and the blood thumping adrenaline she felt from the fight. They continued to argue about whether to kill her or not, she assumed, meanwhile she felt weaker by the second. Could the rogue have used poison enchanted weapo--
"What say you, scoundrel?"
Oh, right.
Rook slid her blue eyes up to the magister's outstretched hand. Two mages and one warrior left. Three-to-one chances weren't ideal... then again, Rook was not very good at gambling. If only Neve had been here, she was good at balancing the odds.
With her left hand, the hand not currently soaked in her own blood, she reached up and grasped the wrist of the Venatori magister. He returned the salute in kind, holding a moment before a noise of disbelief came from behind his mask.
Their joined hands shook tremendously as Rook channelled what magic she had left into electricity, now coursing from her hand through the Venatori's body. He trembled and sputtered, trying to free himself but Rook held on with all her might, hearing the audible surges of her magic pop from within her enemies body. The current kept him rigid, unable to back away and unable to speak aside from the gasping and gurgling showcasing immense pain.
Having seen enough, the Venatori warrior charged ahead and bashed Rook down with their shield. This time, the elf stayed on her back, struggling for even a short breath. Her vision darkened and her body shook both from injuries sustained and magic depleted.
She could hear the Venatori screaming in pain, his fellow cultists trying to shout over him, though Rook was unable to understand any words.
"Elven scum!"
Well, those words she knew.
The warrior stepped on her left wrist, the one that had just electrocuted his friend to death, and stopped down. Hard.
Under the clouds and gentle patter of rain, the snap of bone and a howl torn from her throat filled the air. Another quick strike against her cheek sent Rook's head snapping back, bouncing off the stone of this Dock Town street.
Unconsciousness came as a mercy then.