Chapter Text
Neve was irritated.
The pain radiating from her injuries - compliments of Solas’ ritual - wasn’t helping. As relieved as she was to find clear skies at the ritual site, the harsh sunlight was exacerbating the sting in her right eye.
And, as if that were not enough, her new companion was being stupid.
Varric may have left Rook in charge, but she was beginning to question his choice. Darkspawn had crawled out of the earth mere moments after they arrived in Arlathan Forest, giving Neve her first unvarnished look at Rook’s fighting prowess.
Or, perhaps, her lack thereof.
Neve watched as they repeatedly threw themselves into precarious situations. Why couldn’t she hang back and attack at a distance? Why did she need to position herself in the thick of the fight?
Even more frustrating was the way Harding seemed to encourage her reckless behavior. “Great form, Rook!” she’d call, as the mage launched themselves over an enemy, lightning exploding below them.
It came to a head when Rook moved between two hurlocks. They rushed her, axes dragging on the ground, sparks flying as the twisted metal scraped against the ancient elven floors. Neve felt bile rising in her throat as fear took over. Launching herself towards the foolhardy mage, she flicked her wrist, slowing time. As she landed back-to-back with Rook, she erected a barrier just as an axe came crashing down.
In the brief moment before time resumed its normal pace, Neve caught Rook’s eyes. She saw shock, confusion and a hint of, “What the fuck are you thinking?”
Neve’s irritation flared. What am I thinking?
The axe connected with her barrier, and she braced herself, silently praying it wouldn’t break. She barely registered a soft touch on her waist, her mind still focused on the weight of the hurlock’s blow. In a split second, she felt her body jerk, pulled effortlessly through the magical eddies of the fade. Looking up, she saw the hurlocks cleave through blighted flesh, their axes finding purchase in each other’s chests.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Rook bellowed as Harding made quick work of the remaining darkspawn.
“What was I thinking?” Neve recovered quickly, anger bubbling to the surface. “I’m not the idiot taking unnecessary risks. I know you’re young and green, but there’s more at stake than whatever adrenaline rush you’re chasing!”
Harding jogged over, concerned eyes shifting between the two mages. “Guys, what’s wrong?”
“We have two elven gods on the loose,” Neve continued. “This is no time to take unnecessary risks!”
“Neve-“ Harding began.
“No, it’s fine,” Rook interjected, chuckling. “The detective has me figured out.”
“Excuse me? ” Neve replied incredulously.
“What? I said you figured me out. Isn’t that what you do for a living?”
The pain behind Neve’s right eye was now radiating down the side of her face.
“Are you suggesting I’m wrong? I get that you’re fast - that’s been clear from the beginning. But maintaining that speed in repeated scuffs would require you to be-“
She paused. It was clicking into place.
“Go on,” Rook smiled ruefully, infuriating Neve. “You’re so close.”
“…a Crow.”
“At your service .”
Neve didn’t typically travel with people before she’d thoroughly vetted them. Hazard of the trade. But with the injuries sustained at the ritual site and the unexpected trip into the fade, she hadn’t found the time to look into Rook’s past. Now, thinking back, it made sense. The technique, the feints. The infuriatingly cocky smile now plastered on Rook’s face.
“Are you on a contract?”
Rook shrugged. “It’s a long story. Not really one for a darkspawn-infested elven ruin.”
Neve nodded lamely as Harding looked between them.
“We good, guys?”
“I’m good,” Rook smiled. Looking over at Neve, she asked, “Are you good? I can tell your injuries are bothering you.”
“I’m fine,” Neve replied curtly. “We need to find Solas’ dagger.”
The wisps whirled around her new office as Neve attempted to clean the windowsills. If the thick layer of dust was any indication, it was clear the Lighthouse hadn’t been properly lived in for thousands of years. Neve tried to imagine who - or what - had lived in this space before. Was it their imprint on this place that drew the wisps, or was it something she’d done?
A soft rap at her door broke her chain of thought.
“Come in,” she called, still furiously scrubbing dirt from the window.
She listened as the heavy door swung open, followed by the clicking of boots. Turning, Neve found herself face to face with Rook. They’d cleaned up and changed into casual wear, giving Neve her first unvarnished look at the mage. An elf, Rook was surprisingly tall - standing nearly as tall as Neve. If Neve was taller, the difference was negligible. She lacked the customary tattoos of the Dalish, which Neve suspected meant she’d grown up outside of the clans. Maybe keep that to yourself until you know for sure, Gallus. You’ve already messed up once.
Rook’s hair was a messy, curly mop of blonde hair; a mullet that was uneven in several areas and complemented by a single braid. She was dressed in a leather shirt and pants, all of which was fastened by a belt with sigils belonging to the many houses that comprised the Antivan Crows. She was also built; another characteristic uncommon in elves. All in all, Rook was an oddity. What she had learned and observed of her thus far didn’t fit neatly into the categories people usually settled into. It was unnerving.
“I think the wisps like you,” Rook smiled.
“They like something,” Neve sighed, setting down the rag and turning to face Rook fully.
“Are they bothering you?” Rook asked as they stepped more fully into the room, scanning the sparse furnishings.
“No, they're just curious.”
Rook looked up, smiling. Neve felt irritation bubbling up again. What was there to smile about?
“Are you going to be okay? I could tell your injuries were giving you trouble.”
Neve scowled, looking away. “I’ve been through worse. If this was enough to keep me down, I would‘ve been out of the game years ago.”
She moved to sit on the edge of the large oak desk in the middle of the room.
“No need to worry," she continued. "I’ll be fine. You know me.”
“Do I?” Rook cocked an eyebrow, voice full of laughter.
“You know Varric picked me for this job the same way he picked you,” Neve replied. “We both know what he looked for when putting together this team.”
Rook laughed. “And here I thought you were questioning his judgement back in Arlathan.”
“I…” Neve paused, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry, Rook. I made an assumption about you and I was wrong.”
“Well, when it comes to first impressions, I’d say I did worse. You took a rock to the face because of a call I made.”
“What if,” Neve started slowly, the beginnings of a smile on her face, “we start over?”
Rook’s lopsided smile softened. She stepped forward and extended her hand. Neve looked at it a moment before taking it.
Rook gave it a curt shake before pulling away.
“Deal.”