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She's leaning against the foot of her bed, fingers gripping the neck of the bottle in her hand, staring at the ceiling- shadows and blue light reflect from the fish tank, dancing across stone as she lifts the bottle, taking a drink, before setting it to the side. One leg stretched out, the other is bent with her arm over it, bandages around her shoulder and ribs seeping blood, but she doesn't move, doesn't care, it's all been too much, and it's too far to go to the infirmary for replacements. Her head throbs, a swollen bump developing beneath her hair, and she remembers Emmerich telling her to rest, but if she rests, then she'll have to deal with that fucking egg again.
So, she drinks. The whiskey in her hand is from a stash she found in the pantry when they first arrived at the Lighthouse- older the Minrathous probably, and burns when she takes a drink, but the pain is good. It means she's feeling something. Neve had all but called her emotionless when she went to try and help after saving Treviso from their dragon- called her heartless, made sure she saw the ruin and destruction the dragon had wrought on the city and on the Shadow Dragons.
Oh gods... Viper. Ashur. That man had taken her in, saved her, given her purpose, given her education, and she had all but turned around and thrown it back in his face. Her home was destroyed, the trust she had from Tarquin and Neve was gone, and for what? To save civilians. Her brain reminds her as she takes another drink of the whiskey, watching the fish's shadows chase each other. Treviso is a merchant city. It would have withered without you- Blight in the canals, contaminated drinking water, sickness would have spread, people would have been killed, worse than Minrathous, because Treviso has nobody to defend it but the Crows. The Crows are not an army, and they are not equipped to fight a dragon. They barely have mages. Minrathous has mages by the dozens, and the Archon's palace, and Templars. You made the right choice. The rationalization repeats itself over and over in her head, difficult to drown out, even with the liquor in her hand... speaking of which, when she goes to take another deep drink, she's disappointed to find the bottle dry, as though she had wrung every last drop from the glass.
Pursing her lips, she rolls onto her knees, pushing off the bed to stand on wobbling legs, the room tilting as though on an axis, before she rights herself, gripping the empty bottle to her chest, as though it were full of drink still, and she was afraid it'd spill. Swaggering her way down the hall, the stark silence of her fellow Fade residents cause a thought of a late hour pass through her mind, before she shakes it off as she crosses the courtyard, up the stairs with amazing ease for someone drunk, and into the kitchen.
Setting the empty bottle on the table, her fingers are lithe as she opens the nearby cabinets, searching the contents as quietly as she can. When she digs out a bottle of wine, she lets out a noise of triumph, turning and stumbling to the table, fumbling as she knocks over the empty whiskey bottle, and when it gives a hollow empty clatter as it bounces on the floor, she's a mixture of muffled laughter and shushing, directed at the bottle, as she attempts to bend down the grab it.
"Rook?" She yelps, jumping and banging her sore head on the table, laughter and shushing turning into laughter and whining as she slowly stands, Lucanis slowly rounding the table to her, fingers trailing the wood grains. Part of her wonders how those fingers would feel on her, holding her hand, caressing her cheek, gripping her hips, diving into her hair, or a more intimate part of her. Her thoughts become gooey and dirty as he closes the space between them, making her cheeks burn hot. "What are you doing out here? It's late."
"S'okay. Just gettin s'methin ta drink." She slurrs, hand falling just short of her wine bottle, making her brow furrow before she reaches for it again, hand heavy as she grabs it, only for Lucanis to cover her hand with his. A small thrill shoots through her at his touch, before guilt pools in the pit of her stomach, and she turns heavy-lidded eyes on him.
"I think you've had enough." He says softly, his eyes falling on the empty bottle on the floor. "Where did you even get that? The only alcohol I've found, is cooking wine."
"Magician never reveals her secrets!" She sqwacks out, giggling as he wrestles the bottle of tevinter red from her hand, and she leans heavily against him as she tries to reach it as he holds it away from her. "Gimme that! I looted it, fair n squareded."
"I don't think so." He presses her back by his hand on her shoulder, dragging out a chair with his foot, and firmly planting her into it. "Stay."
"'M not a dog!" She huffs, crossing her arms as her lips pull tight in a pout.
"Stay please." He amends, and she turns away, pointedly ignoring him as he sighs, disappearing into the pantry, before returning with a coffee cup, full almost to the brim with water, in his hands. "Here. Drink this." She takes it, guzzling it, before pouting at the lack of contents as Lucanis sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Meirda." He shakes his head. "Drink it slowly." He says once he hands her the cup once again. "Small sips." He walks away, over to the kitchen, dishes clattering and the fire in the stove whooshing on, and she's watching, almost hypnotically, as he chops meat and veggies. He's tossing them in a pan with some kind of sauce, stirring rapidly, and soon a savory smell fills the kitchen, making her stomach grumble despite being full of whiskey.
"Whazzat?" She asks as he places a bowl before her, filled with white rice, meat and veggies, smothered in a brown gravy sauce.
"Food. Eat." He hands her a spoon, and she stares at the utensil, as though weighing her options as the room tilts a bit to the side. "Rook, please, eat." She gives a singular nod, lifting a spoon to start to eat. "You didn't come to dinner. I was- we were worried." Lucanis sits beside her with his own bowl of food, stirring the smaller portion together before he starts to eat. "Were you drinking since we returned from Minrathous?"
"Mhmm." She at least is polite enough to mind her manners, even while drunk, and not talk with her mouth full, or chew with her mouth open.
"You needn't have been alone. That's why we're here, to share the burden." He sets his hand on her own. "Drinking, talking, crying," He reaches up to touch the tender skin around her eyes, from where she rubbed and rubbed them, trying to staunch tears. "you can come to us. To me."
"S'ats sweet." She purrs, leaning into his touch, practically nuzzling his hand, before she sighs, leaning back in her chair, giving a stretch. "M'fine. Lotta on mi'mind."
"So speak to someone about it. If not me, than Taash, Harding, Davrin, Emmerich, Bellara. Someone. Your role is to lead us, not sacrifice everything about yourself for us. You matter as well." He pauses as he spots the bandage beneath her shirt. "You're still bleeding."
"'T's noffin." She waves him off, piling a spoonful of food into her mouth, and Lucanis frowns, standing as he grabs her empty cup and bowl with his own, watching her lean back in her seat, taking note of the slight wince when she stretches.
"Come." He holds out his hand to her and she stares at it for a second, before taking it as he pulls her to her feet. The world doesn't tilt, so she counts it as a win, smiling loopily at the Crow as he starts to guide her from the kitchen. She doesn't pay any mind to where they're going, too drunk to care as he leads her, not to her room, but to the infirmary, having her sit on the bed as he digs around.
"Whatcha doin?" She hums as he turns to her with elfroot cream and bandages.
"Take off your shirt please." Her face feels hotter as she shakes her head. "Bellara and Harding are asleep, I am aware that you may not be comfortable with a man, but I must see to your wounds. Your shirt. Please." His cheeks and ears are pink too, and with a groggy glance at Varric's sleeping figure, she pops the buttons on her tunic, going from the bottom to keep some modesty as he reaches for the bandages around her ribs to snip them off with the medical shears. After cleaning and fixing up her wounds on her ribs, he sees to the ones on her shoulder, taking extra care when she giggles at the brush of his fingers around her collarbone, though it does make him smirk, before he gives the all clear for her to right her clothes. "Better. You'll need to have those changed in the morning. I'll remind you, as you're unlikely to remember much about tonight."
"I'll remember!" She huffs, standing with his assistance. "I'not that frunk-" She cuts herself off with a giggle as he leads from the infirmary. "drunk!" She amends as he guides her towards her quarters, before she stubbornly stops in the middle of the hall.
"Rook, what are you doing?"
"Don't wanna." She huffs, puffing her cheeks as his brow furrows.
"You need rest, Rook." He chides, trying to pull her along, and she digs her feet into the floor. "Rook, there's no point in arguing. Even Spite agrees that your need sleep."
"I don't wanna!" She whines, tugging her arm to try and free it.
"Rook. Rest! We watch." She blinks blurrily up at him, at Spite, before sighing with a nod. "Good." Lucanis blinks away the flash of purple, regaining control as he leads her down the hall without protest, and helps her settle on her bed.
"Can I get you anything else?" He asks softly, and she pouts softly, rubbing her hands up and down her knees.
"I don't wanna be alone." She finally confesses, the sobriety in her voice surprising him as he pauses. "I'm scared." She whispers.
"I... can stay until you fall asleep." He offers, and she looks up at him with a wobbly lip.
"Will you lay with me?" His jaw drops.
"Rook, I-"
"Please?" Her voice is tiny, quiet, full of tears as he takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Meirda. What am I going to do with you?" He kicks off his boots, and shoos her over on the bed, making her nod as she scoots, tucking beneath the blankets as he lays over top of them.
"You'll be cold."
"I'll be fine. Sleep." He orders, stiffening when she shuffles closer, gently touching his arm. "Rook." His tone is warning, and she blushes, shying away a bit as she turns, laying with her back facing him. She lets out a yelp as he grabs her, cradling her against his side, one arm beneath his head, the other draped over her waist. "Sleep." He urges now, smiling to himself when she removes a hand from the blanket cacoon, trading her fingers through his.
"Good night Luca." She murmurs, yawning sleepily.
"...good night Rihris." When morning comes, she finds herself tucked against him, head on his chest, holding his hand tight as he snores softly beneath her. Despite the stiffness in her neck and the tackiness in her mouth, she is smiling, snuggling closer, hoping to capture that sleep once again, never having felt so rested.