Chapter Text
TAINTED ⚔ BLOOD
▪──── Act 1 ────▪
Chapter 1 - Always Be Careful with Your Blood
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
That’s what Varric Tethras told himself when he decided to recruit a blood mage to stop Solas.
Most people knew her as Rhea Corvus. But Varric decided that calling her Rook was too funny to pass up. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind the nickname. She’d just smiled wryly the first time he used it, shaking her head with an amused scoff.
One might’ve thought the daughter of the late Magister Valerius Corvus, who prided himself on his ancestry, would care more about her family name. But she didn’t.
Then again, Dorian had described her as a black sheep.
“She rejected her seat in the Magisterium,” he’d said when Varric asked. “Caused quite the outrage among the Altus mages. If you need a powerful blood mage who isn’t allied with the Venatori, she’s your best bet. I only met her once in passing, at a party, but Mae had her investigated a few months ago. She’s clean.”
Neve Gallus hadn’t been quite as onboard with the decision. Varric didn’t blame her, he still got the creeps every time the subject of blood magic came up. But so far, bringing Rook in had turned out to be one of his better decisions.
He was still alive, after all.
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
The silver blade of a finely sharpened dagger pierced the training dummy propped against the wall. Next to it was a dusty harpsichord, pushed aside to make room for the bed now at the center of the room. A woman rested upside down on the mattress, head dangling off the edge. Her long crimson hair spilled toward the floor like a bloody waterfall.
With a flick of her fingers, the dagger flew back into her hand. She twirled it lazily, and then sent it flying again with precision, impaling the dummy’s head with a dull thump. Again, she summoned the blade. Again, she threw it.
And again.
An impatient knock on the door pulled her out of her rhythm.
“Come in.”
She didn’t need to look to know it was Neve, because the detective’s steps had the distinct click of her prosthetic leg. Neve crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“Rook, we’re going out to recruit a new contact,” she said, her voice clipped. “Varric said you’d be the best one for the job.”
The redhead rolled to her side, propping her chin on her hand to look at the other mage.
“And he couldn’t come to tell me himself?”
Neve’s lips thinned.
“We are looking for a Crow. The Demon of Vyrantium.”
Rook inclined her head. That explained why Neve was the one delivering the message. This recruitment wasn’t Varric’s idea, it was hers. She didn’t need clarification, but Neve gave it anyway, as if daring her to say something.
“He got his nickname killing Venatori.” Blood mages, went unsaid. Like you.
Because that was Neve’s problem with her. Rook practiced blood magic, even if she didn’t consider herself a blood mage. She was a mage, first and foremost. Which branches of magic she used didn’t define her. But that didn’t matter to the detective, or to the general population.
It also didn’t seem to matter that she was the one Varric had recruited to take down rogue mages. Fighting fire with fire and all that.
Rook scoffed silently, smiling to herself. She could see where Neve was coming from. A mage hunter to keep in check the blood mage of the team, just in case she went mad. Somewhat offensive, sure, but understandable. She was used to people's suspicions.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. But I thought he disappeared?” she asked, ignoring the silent challenge.
Neve’s dwindling patience was glaringly obvious; her lips pressed into a tight line now.
“We need to check. I’ve already arranged a meeting with a contact in Treviso, and Varric said you’re used to dealing with the Crows and their contracts.”
“I’ve hired them a couple of times,” Rook said casually, with the nonchalance of someone talking about hiring a gardener to trim their rose bushes.
She had mentioned that in passing to the dwarf, one night when he was recounting — slightly drunk, mind you — that an old acquaintance of his was the culprit behind the chaos that the Antivan Crows had faced a few years back. A rogue Crow that had fallen in love with the target he was supposed to kill.
Figures that Varric would remember her comment even with the alcohol addling his mind.
“You’ve— met them?”
“No, not really. That’s not how the Crows work. But we’ve crossed paths, and I’m pretty sure they know of me, too. I doubt they’d ever accept a client blindly.”
Neve sighed, clearly resisting the urge to massage her temples.
“Fine. I’ll meet you by the Eluvian. You have half an hour.”
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
“You know, Varric, when I accepted your deal it only included stopping one god. Then you added two more. And now I’m also a messenger? I'm starting to feel like you're taking advantage of me,” Rook joked by way of greeting when she met the dwarf by the Eluvian. Neve, waiting by his side, rolled her eyes.
It hadn’t taken Rook long to get ready. She was always in her light leather armor, except when she was asleep. What had taken more time had been preparing and holstering her numerous daggers in their respective places, along with her mage knife, her orb, and several potions.
Varric chuckled, wincing when the movement jostled his bandaged shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I'll add a couple thousand to your payment. Kids these days… so greedy.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” she said, winking.
Rook liked Varric, especially because he was the only one who behaved normally with her. Both Neve and Harding were always on their guard around her, and Bellara didn’t seem to be able to make up her mind about the matter, constantly shifting awkwardly in her presence.
She didn’t mind, not really. Rook hadn't accepted to work for Varric with the intention of making friends, so she hadn't made an effort to integrate herself into the group. In fact, she hadn't seen most of them since they had first crossed the Eluvian after the disastrous interruption of Solas' ritual, not even bothering to join them for meals.
She’d seen the ancient elf more times in her dreams than she’d seen Harding.
But that was fine with her. Her job was stopping Solas. The others could deal with the politics of rallying allies to face the gods.
“So,” she said, lazily spinning a dagger between her fingers, “if the Demon of Vyrantium’s still missing, should we hire another Crow?”
Varric eyed the blade warily, as if half-expecting her to miss and stab herself.
“That… would be Neve’s call,” he said, confirming Rook’s suspicions about whose idea this was. She looked to the mage in question, noticing that the detective had her hand unconsciously hovering over Solas’ dagger, which she had strapped next to her scepter.
After Varric’s injuries had made him incapable of leading their group, Neve had begrudgingly stepped up to fill his role. That was why they had decided it would be for the best if she was the one carrying the dagger, even if Rook was the one with the unwelcome intrusion of the god of lies in her dreams.
She was still miffed that the elf had chosen her of all her companions. It wasn’t like she was the only one who had bled at the ritual site. Neve still had a nasty cut on her forehead from the confrontation.
But then again, it hadn’t been Neve who used blood magic to interrupt Solas in the middle of his quarrel with Varric.
She supposed the god had taken that personally.
He’d been so furious that Rook considered herself lucky that her blood hadn’t been enough for him to kill her in her sleep out of vengeance. She was always careful with her blood, after all. Being a blood mage taught you that.
“We’ll see once we have a definite answer,” Neve replied. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the Crows waiting.”
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
The trip to Treviso was spent in uncomfortable silence.
Rook was fairly certain Neve was regretting taking Varric’s advice to bring her along, if her tense posture and frequent glances over her shoulder were any indication. Rook would’ve offered to take the lead if she had any idea where they were going, just to spare Neve the anxiety of having her back turned to her. Which was a ridiculous worry, in Rook’s opinion. If it came to a fair fight, she was pretty confident she could take the other mage, no backstabbing required.
“Oh, you made it! Neve, right?” said the woman waiting at their meeting point. She was a striking elf with dark skin and bushy hair that bounced with every movement. She turned to Rook. “And you are…?”
“I go by Rook these days.”
Dark brown eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her.
“I’m Andarateia Cantori, Seventh Talon. Your face is… familiar.”
“I’ve had dealings with the Crows before. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a file on me somewhere in your archives.”
The Talon raised an elegant eyebrow, humming softly before nodding, apparently accepting that as answer enough. “Come, my associate Viago is gathering the others.”
As Neve walked alongside the Crow, making small talk, she seemed to relax a little. Meanwhile, Rook trailed behind in silence, mentally mapping out the city. She’d been to Treviso before, but it had been years ago, before the occupation, and she wasn’t exactly known for her navigational skills.
She gave up entirely once they started climbing trellises and riding ziplines.
Rook hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting, but it certainly wasn’t what actually happened. The moment they crossed the threshold where the group was assembled, Andarateia — Teia — barely had time to do the proper introductions before Caterina’s eyes landed on Rook.
“You— you are the client?” said the older woman, straightening in her seat to study Rook, who stepped a bit forward under the scrutiny.
“You know her?” asked the man beside her. Illario Dellamorte. Rook recognized him immediately.
“She’s been our client before. You handled one of her contracts,” Caterina explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. At that, Illario’s blue eyes narrowed on Rook, a spark of curiosity flickering in his gaze. “But I suspect you're not here to hire him again? You've always done your dealings through an intermediary.”
Rook’s lips twitched in amusement. She’d figured they’d recognize her. After all, the Crows carefully investigated their contracts and clients before accepting them. But they hadn't been the only ones doing their research. Rook had also followed closely how they handled her requests. That was why she recognized Illario.
“As satisfied as I was with his clean work,” she started, gesturing toward him, “I'm afraid I'm just here as backup. Neve…?”
“I'm looking for your best mage-killer. The Demon of Vyrantium,” announced the Vint.
What came next was the revelation that the Demon was dead— except he wasn’t. He’d been captured by the Venatori, and Caterina had kept the information from the others until now.
Well, it turned out that Varric was right. Rook was just perfect for this mission.
“Do you have any spare armor?” she asked Teia while Caterina and Illario finalized the arrangements for the rescue. Viago raised a questioning eyebrow at her, arms crossed.
“Not for me, for Lucanis?” Rook clarified. “If he's alive, he's been in prison for a year. I imagine he'll appreciate a change of clothes before getting out of there. Maybe even some weapons. I’ll pay, but I don’t know his size or preferences.”
The two Talons looked at each other with something akin to surprise, and after some silent conversation passed between them, eyebrows twitching and gazes flicking meaningfully, Viago left to grab something from their merchant stash.
Really, had no one thought about that?
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
The Ossuary.
That’s what the Venatori prison was called. And it was underwater.
Rook hated it.
She could swim. Not gracefully, and she wouldn't win any races, but she could keep herself afloat if it came down to it.
Now, being under the water? Hundreds of meters down? That was terrifying.
She wasn't some “alluring hero,” as Illario had teased earlier when he led them to the boat that brought them here, but she wasn’t about to back out over a little fear. Squaring her shoulders, she followed Neve through the maze-like corridors of the submerged fortress.
A fortress already filled with corpses.
“This is quite a gruesome welcome.”
Neve nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her voice, focused as she was on traversing the place. Rook pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
“Yes. Something’s wrong here,” Neve agreed reluctantly, but didn’t say anything else.
Shrugging, Rook let her have her silence until they came across an array of Venatori wards blocking their way, powered by red crystals. Blood magic.
Rook narrowed her eyes, analyzing the pulsing currents of energy. She could easily twist the flow in her favor. She turned to the other mage.
“Do you want me to—” The scathing glare she got in response was answer enough, and Rook raised her hands in surrender. “Nevermind. All yours.”
Crossing her arms, she waited patiently while Neve located and destroyed the crystals one by one. Once the door was unlocked, Rook unsheathed her mage knife and summoned her orb.
“Get ready to fight,” she warned. “I can sense a blood magic ritual behind these doors.”
Neve gave a curt nod and pushed them open.
Rook didn’t hesitate. The moment she had a clear shot, she flung her knife over Neve’s shoulder. One of the Venatori guards didn’t even turn before the blade pierced his throat, severing his carotid artery. He dropped in a sickening spray of blood, and Rook recalled her weapon with a pull on the Fade.
“I’d say we don’t need to fight, but I’d be lying,” she said with a dangerous smirk. “None of you are getting out of here alive. Who’s next?”
The guards raised their weapons, and Neve brought forth her scepter. But before anyone could strike, the ice at the back of the room shattered. A man surged from its depths like a demon unleashed.
Oh, the irony.
He was Lucanis Dellamorte.
And he was possessed.
Rook stared in stunned silence as he cut down the remaining guards with the brutal grace of a trained assassin, purple wings spreading from his back. One man barely had time to turn before Lucanis drove a kick into his chest, sending him flying onto a jagged shard of ice that impaled him. The fight was over in seconds, and Lucanis hadn’t even needed a weapon.
The Demon of Vyrantium turned to them, still on edge. His gaze landed on Neve first, but then shifted to Rook, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“You… you’re a blood mage,” he accused, voice low and raspy from lack of use. He was wearing prison rags that hung loosely on his battered frame, giving him the appearance of a madman.
Rook had heard about the Demon of Vyrantium’s fabled sensitivity to magic, but she hadn't thought it would be that refined.
She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, and you’re possessed by a spirit.”
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
By a spirit.
The words gave Lucanis pause, and something in him stirred. Spite materialized at his side.
“It’s… complicated,” he said, eyes following the cautious advance of the demon toward the redheaded woman, who seemed completely unaware of the presence lurking nearby.
‘Blood. Tainted. It does not belong. But why?’
“Look, Caterina Dellamorte sent us,” the other woman cut in. “She promised us a mage-killer if we broke you out.”
Lucanis turned his gaze from Spite to her.
“I can still work.”
“We’ll see about that,” she replied briskly. “But we need to move. I’m Neve, and this is Rook.”
‘Rook? Wrong. She smells like… lily. From before.’
Lucanis had no idea what Spite was talking about, but the way the demon hovered ever closer to the blood mage made his skin crawl. Like a moth drawn to flame, the unholy reflection of himself leaned in near the woman’s pale neck, and suddenly—
She shivered.
“You can feel him. The demon,” he said in dawning realization.
Her bright amber eyes, so saturated they looked almost red, regarded him in thoughtful silence.
“A bit,” she admitted, offering nothing more.
He’d wondered if others could see the demon, and it was obvious that Neve couldn’t. But Rook had noticed his presence at her side. That could prove… dangerous.
Questions would have to wait until they were out of here.
“They have a vial of my blood. I cannot leave it in their hands. And I had a contract when I was captured—”
“And Crows don’t break contracts,” Rook finished, her lips curling up in amusement.
Judging by Neve’s slow exasperated sigh, she wasn’t nearly as entertained.
“Here,” Rook said, rummaging through a sling bag he hadn’t noticed before. She handed him a bundle of clothes. “Viago gave me this armor for you. And—” she unstrapped a rapier and a dagger from her belt, “—weapons. We’ll wait outside while you change.”
Viago? That was unexpectedly considerate of him. But as Lucanis glanced down at the prison rags he wore, he definitely appreciated the thought.
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
Rook trailed behind the pair, increasingly aware of how much she felt like a third wheel.
“Well, at least your demon has good taste,” Neve was saying.
And yeah, that was definitely flirting.
Rook rolled her eyes, hard. Apparently batting your lashes at a possessed man was fine, but being friendly with a blood mage? That was crossing the line.
Of course she’d draw the short end of the stick. Again.
She glanced toward the spot nearby where her senses told her the spirit was hovering.
“You’re seeing this, right?” she whispered, keeping her voice low to avoid catching the others’ attention. Not that she expected an answer, since she hadn’t been able to communicate with spirits for years, but she kept talking nonetheless. “Good thing I'm not easily offended, but Neve’s favoritism for dark, mysterious guys is showing. She hasn't been half as friendly to me.”
A cold, otherworldly sensation brushed her wrist in response.
“You seem decent enough, though,” she added, softer. “I appreciate it, even if I find it surprising. Spirits tend to be a bit wary around me since I started dabbling in blood magic. They used to like me before that.”
Old, unbidden memories surfaced, but she pushed them away when she caught a pair of dark eyes watching her suspiciously. Rook offered Lucanis a cheeky wave and he scoffed, turning his attention back to Neve.
And another one joins the Be Wary of Rook Even Though She Hasn't Done a Single Thing to Us Club. She wondered if she should hand out some badges.
Dispatching the Venatori was ridiculously easy between the three of them, even if Lucanis kept glancing over his shoulder every few seconds like he expected her to stab him and start a ritual over his bleeding corpse.
Honestly, if he didn’t pay more attention he was going to end up with a knife in his guts, and it wouldn’t be hers.
The tension reached a new high when they arrived at the storage room where his blood was kept.
Lucanis turned to her, his expression dark.
“You. Stay there,” he ordered. “I don’t want you near my blood.”
Rook raised her hands in mock surrender.
“As you wish,” she answered, unbothered and unwilling to start a fight over such a trivial matter. She went to lean against the wall, arms crossed, while Lucanis and Neve stepped inside.
The crash of shattering glass soon confirmed that they’d destroyed the phylacteries. Then the smell of blood hit her and she wrinkled her nose. When they came back out, Rook lifted an eyebrow.
“That’s it?” she said, jerking her thumb toward the room. “You should burn it. A competent mage could still use that blood against you, you know.”
Lucanis frowned and turned to Neve, but she shook her head.
“Sorry. My specialty’s frost magic. I can’t control my fire spells that well,” she answered the unspoken question regretfully.
Lucanis’ expression darkened further as he turned to Rook, his eyes hard and jaw clenched.
She sighed. “Yes, I can burn it.”
He hesitated, appearing to be torn between the risk of letting her near the blood and the danger of someone else finding it before it became useless. His eyes flicked to an empty space near Rook, and she guessed he was listening to the spirit.
“…Alright,” he relented at last. “But no funny business, or I'll slit your throat.”
He punctuated the threat with a slight shift of his dagger, just close enough to be a warning, just far enough to stay out of easy disarm range.
Charming.
Rook resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. She stepped forward slowly, like approaching a wild animal, and peeked into the room. A pool of dark blood shimmered under the gloomy lights of the Ossuary. Raising her unarmed hands, she released a controlled stream of fire and seared away every trace of the liquid.
When she turned around, his blade was waiting. Lucanis had crept closer while she was distracted, his posture tense and ready for an attack. Rook met his gaze and smirked.
“You know,” she said, voice low as she raised her hand to gently brush the ridge of the dagger. “I don’t normally use other people's blood in my spells, but I do use my own. So if you’re ever going to try and kill me—” her fingers drifted to skim the blade’s edge, just shy of drawing blood, and Lucanis pulled back with a grunt. “—make sure to do it in one clean move. Or otherwise, without blood involved.”
They stared each other down in charged silence, Lucanis’ lips pressed into a frown, while Rook’s curled up into an amused smile. Behind them, Neve hovered uncertainly, clearly unsure if she should step in.
“If you’re done threatening me,” Rook said, tone light, “I believe we still have a contract to finish.”
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
Calivan never stood a chance against the three of them.
The journey through the prison and back to Treviso was tense. Lucanis wasn’t sure how he was supposed to work alongside a blood mage, but he had to admit that fighting with her came surprisingly easy. She wove her magic and physical attacks like a dance, and she always seemed to know when to step back to let him take over.
He wondered if it had something to do with her sensitivity to Spite. Which put him quite on edge, because that meant she could feel the demon constantly circling her.
What bothered him even more was that he didn’t understand why Spite was so fixated on her. He didn’t hover around Neve like this. Was it because of the blood magic? That didn’t make sense. If anything, it should have repelled him. The torment they’d endured should’ve made him hate blood mages.
He did his best to ignore the demon sniffing Rook’s hair. He needed to act normal, especially around Caterina. No one could know that something was wrong with him.
He squared his shoulders and stepped into the Cantori Diamond.
It was a mess.
Viago and Teia turned to him, startled.
“What happened here?”
A fist hitting the table made him look past them. Illario.
“A message. From Zara Renata.”
The next hour barely registered. It was as if he were watching someone else live his life.
Caterina was dead.
He had just gotten out, and in the time it had taken Rook and Neve to rescue him, she was gone. It didn’t make sense. It felt like a cruel joke delivered with the worst possible timing.
He moved through it all in a daze: Neve’s quiet condolences, his cousin’s stunned disbelief that he still wanted to work after everything.
But he had to do something. If he sat still, he’d lose his mind.
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
Back at the Lighthouse, Rook was once again sprawled on her bed.
She felt bad for Lucanis.
The man clearly despised her, but he didn’t deserve what had happened to him. She kept wondering— if they’d been faster, could they have saved Caterina?
She wasn’t even sure what had really happened. How had the Venatori gotten past all the guards, Crow recruits, and even Teia and Viago? All of them were trained, armed, and stationed in a secure location. It shouldn’t have been possible.
Unless there was a traitor among them.
Should she say something to Lucanis? Share her suspicions? She doubted he’d welcome her trying to make conversation. Was it worth the effort?
With a sigh, she pushed herself upright and headed toward the dining hall, suspecting they’d probably be gathered there. It was that or the library, and the latter was empty.
She crossed the courtyard and pushed open the hall doors.
Whatever conversation had been happening came to a sudden halt at her entrance. Four pairs of eyes turned to her. Neve, Bellara, and Varric were gathered around the central table, while Lucanis stood leaning against the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel.
The silence was deafening.
Her gaze flicked between Neve’s and Bellara’s uneasy expressions, then to Lucanis’ guarded one, and finally landed on Varric. The dwarf was kind enough to offer her a small, welcoming smile.
“Rook. Come on in, join us,” he said. “We were just talking about the uninvited passenger our new teammate brought with him.”
“The spirit?” she asked, walking to stand by the stairs.
“Yeah, Spite. Any idea if he can be safely removed?”
Rook glanced at Lucanis. His dark eyes were locked on her, unblinking.
“Uhm, no, sorry. From what little I’ve gathered, this isn’t a normal possession,” she answered. “Lucanis isn’t a mage, and— Spite?” she said the name carefully, like tasting the word on her tongue. “—didn’t possess him on purpose. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
“Me neither,” Bellara chimed in.
“I could try to investigate the matter, but, well,” she gestured toward Lucanis, “I doubt he’ll want my help with that.”
The frown on his face was answer enough.
“I have people in Minrathous I could ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Neve offered.
Rook looked over at her. She looked… stressed.
Understandable, really. Hiring a possessed assassin to keep their resident blood mage in check? Rook might have laughed if the situation weren’t so tense.
Still, she tried to offer some form of reassurance.
“I know this isn’t exactly ideal,” she said. “But Spite seems… relatively harmless?” As if on cue, the air grew noticeably colder around her. Yep. He was paying attention. “I mean, he hasn’t taken over Lucanis or anything. Maybe we could try talking to him? See what he wants?”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Lucanis suddenly staggered away from the fireplace and almost right into her. He caught himself just in time, stopping short before they collided. Startled dark eyes met equally stunned amber ones.
The scrape of chairs on stone told her everyone had shot to their feet, alarmed.
“What was that?!” Varric asked.
“That,” Lucanis said with reluctance, jaw clenched, “was Spite. Throwing a tantrum.” Then, he turned a sharp, disapproving look on Rook. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped engaging with him. You’re making things worse.”
The words hit her harder than they should. Her breath caught, mouth parting slightly as if to respond, but nothing came out at first.
“Oh,” she mumbled, and dropped her gaze. “I’m… sorry. I must’ve misread him. I thought he was okay with me, but I guess not.”
She took a step back, then another, slowly putting space between herself and the others as she edged toward the door.
“I’ll head back to my room,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance.”
And with that, she turned and left.
She knew she shouldn’t have gotten involved.
▪──── ⚔ ────▪
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