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"Where do you see yourself, after all this is over?"
It was one of those rare moments when Lucanis and Davrin were among those left behind at the Lighthouse while Rook was out in the field. Davrin had taken to whittling in his room, so Lucanis had joined him to get out of the pantry for a bit. Both of them had grabbed a seat to exchange stories about their most memorable jobs as they stared out over the endless expanse of the Fade, Assan fast asleep at their feet.
Even Spite was little more than a steady hum in the back of Lucanis's mind, always present, yet quieter than usual. Warmth resonated between host and spirit, and any sharp edges left behind soon smoothed out, if only for the time being.
It was a welcome reprieve from all of the chaos going on around them, which is why Lucanis was caught off guard when Davrin posed that question to him.
Part of him didn't want to think about tomorrow, or the day after that. He wanted to savor the peace of the present while he still could, but he wouldn't begrudge Davrin his curiosity.
"If we survive, you mean, then I guess that I see myself as First Talon?" The words came out as more of a question than an answer, but how else could Lucanis respond to that?
Davrin snorted, focused on the task at hand. He angled his carving this way and that, considering how next to approach his work.
“Are you asking or telling?”
“In all honesty,” Lucanis sighed, leaning back in his seat, “I don't even know anymore.”
He massaged his temple, a dull pain throbbing beneath his touch.
But Davrin wasn't going to let the subject go that easily.
“What is it that you want to happen then?” he asked.
The rhythmic slice of his knife against wood was a familiar comfort, so Lucanis chose to concentrate more on that than his growing headache.
“Come on, Davrin,” he scoffed. The corners of his lips curled down into a scowl. “We both know that my duty is to the Crows. I have to do right by them.” They were family, after all, but… weren't Rook and the others as well? Lucanis's stare turned distant as he considered that, but he steeled himself against any impending doubts. “Sometimes, what I ‘want’ doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.”
Davrin stopped in the middle of his carving.
Dark eyes trailed up and pierced through Lucanis, Davrin's gaze now focused on him instead.
The intensity alone took Lucanis's breath away, the air leaving his lungs all at once.
“Trust me, it matters,” Davrin stated, his voice filled with a conviction that left no room for argument, but Lucanis still managed to hear the words left unsaid.
It matters to me.
Lucanis averted his eyes, heat rushing to his cheeks.
Rather than acknowledge the sentiment, he teased, “Are you going soft on me right now?”
Davrin's responding chuckle, deep and rich, threatened to send a shiver down his spine.
“I would never,” he said.
There was a shuffle at Lucanis's side, followed by a creak of the chair as Davrin got to his feet. Lucanis snuck a glimpse in his direction, only to watch him set his unfinished work aside, dusting his hands off before he approached.
Before Lucanis could ask what he was doing, Davrin reached out and gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. Lucanis tensed, his back stiff as he sat up straight, but it didn't take long for instinct to give way to yearning.
Even through his clothes, Davrin's touch was white-hot like a brand upon his skin.
Spite started to stir, curious about Lucanis's reaction.
“Hey,” Davrin said, waiting until Lucanis met his eyes in order to continue. Once he had his attention, he glanced pointedly at Assan, who was still sound asleep, then over at the door with a slight jerk of his head. “Let's go for a walk. I wouldn't mind stretching my legs for a bit.”
At that exact moment, he felt Davrin's thumb stroke down along his shoulder, and he all but melted on the spot.
Next thing Lucanis knew, his mind conjured up images of him and Davrin. Together. He couldn't stop himself from wondering how it would feel to have the full strength of those hands pinning him in place, or to be able to trace along the scarred muscles of his back.
The truth was, Davrin had always been handsome. There was no doubt about it. Lucanis could acknowledge it, even when they were at each other's throats majority of the time. However, this… This fixation of his was a relatively recent development, one that he had only felt towards others a few times before.
One of such instances had been when he showed interest in Viago, but everyone knew how that turned out.
Whatever fragile peace he had with Davrin, he didn't want to risk losing it over this.
When he felt Spite rise to the surface of his skin underneath Davrin's hand, veins of violet light showing through the fabric of his shirt, Lucanis bolted up out of his chair with a gasp. Eyes wide, he managed to catch the chair before it could crash to the floor. Both he and Davrin peeked over at Assan, who didn't so much as budge at the sudden commotion.
Slowly, Lucanis righted the chair with a nervous chuckle, Spite's light snuffed out like a flame.
“Right. A walk.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he inched away, careful to keep his distance. “We can do that.” He pointed at the door with a sheepish grin. “Outside, yeah.”
Davrin raised an eyebrow at him.
Cocking his head to the side, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Are you okay?”
“Who? Me?” Lucanis placed a hand over his heart, feeling foolish after a second, because who else would he be talking to? In an attempt to compose himself, he cleared his throat. “Sure, yes, of course! Why wouldn't I be?”
“Uh-huh…” Davrin shook his head at him, waving him ahead. “After you then.”
He didn't have to tell him twice.
Together, they stepped outside within the confines of the Lighthouse, walking around aimlessly while they spoke.
As Davrin surveyed the area, he told him, “You know, I don't think that I'll ever understand this.” He gestured around them. “The Fade and all. I guess that it was always this unattainable concept to me, an experience that only mages got access to. Something for the Keeper and their apprentices to deal with.” He shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe my issues with the place stem from that, but I just can't seem to wrap my head around it for the life of me.” He huffed out a breath of a laugh. “Bet that sounds strange, especially coming from an elf.”
Lucanis wondered what brought that on. Another lecture from Emmrich, perhaps? Regardless, he could empathize with how he felt.
“Not at all,” Lucanis assured him. “Maker, I have a demon possessing me. The Fade is Spite's home, yet it still doesn't make sense to me at times. I know theories, of course, information that can help me think like my targets and predict their next move, but actually understanding it? Heh.” Lucanis's smile shifted. It became more natural, softer around the edges compared to before. “If you ask me, no amount of study could do it justice like experiencing the connection firsthand as mages do.”
“You got that right.” Lucanis didn't notice at first, but they had shifted closer to each other with every step, gravitating towards one another without thinking. Eventually, their arms bumped together, and Davrin gave him a playful nudge of his elbow. “Hey, watch it, Dellamorte!”
As if Lucanis was one to cower away from confrontation, especially when it involved Davrin.
He nudged him back, even though he barely managed to move him.
“Or what?”
“Or I might have to put you in your place.”
By all means.
Lucanis didn't know which of them the thought originated from, but his mind grew light all of a sudden, relieved from the weight of Spite's presence.
Spite materialized before them, walking backwards in front of Davrin with a wicked smirk.
“I'd love to see him try,” he hissed, turning his attention to Lucanis next. “You're acting different around him. Why?”
Lucanis grimaced.
“Don't start,” he warned him.
“What?” Davrin asked, confused by his abrupt change in mood.
Lucanis sighed.
“It's Spite,” he explained. “He said that he would love to see you try.”
Safe to say, Lucanis was omitting that last part that was directed at him.
Davrin snorted in response.
“Between you and me—” Davrin leaned in to whisper in Lucanis's ear. “—I can handle Spite.”
This time, there was simply no holding back his shiver. It shot down his spine with a vengeance, butterflies filling his stomach with a fluttery sensation.
“You think so?” If Lucanis was a little breathless when he said that, then neither one of them mentioned it.
“Ha!” Davrin didn't so much as hesitate when he said, “I know so.”
When he answered Lucanis so confidently like that, it was hard not to believe him.
Spite, on the other hand, rose up to the challenge.
“Let me speak to him,” he demanded, but Lucanis's reply was instant.
“Not a chance.” Spite's indignation sparked to life within him as he bristled at Lucanis's tone. Lucanis amended his answer in resignation, not having the energy to argue with him. “Maybe later. Not right now, though.”
Spite grumbled under his breath, causing Lucanis to roll his eyes at him.
Davrin watched him closely, his lips pursed and brow furrowed.
“Is he being difficult?”
“You have no idea,” Lucanis groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “He insists on speaking with you.”
Falling silent, Davrin considered that for a moment, then nodded to himself, arriving at a decision.
He angled his head in the general direction that Lucanis spoke to, his eyes sweeping out in front of them.
“Tell you what, Spite,” he said. “You give Lucanis and I some more time to ourselves, and you and I can have a chat later.” Spite visibly perked up at the offer. As if he could sense Spite's anticipation clinging to the air, Davrin added, “If that's okay with Lucanis, of course.”
“Fine by me,” Lucanis muttered. If that's what it took for a little peace and quiet, then he was okay with it.
Plus, it would be funny to hear how well Davrin could actually ‘handle’ Spite.
“Deal!” Spite exclaimed.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished; and once more, that familiar weight settled into the back of Lucanis's mind.
Lucanis held back a grin.
“What have you done?”
“Hopefully, something that I won't regret,” Davrin laughed.
“I hope not either.”
“You're part of a pair, though,” Davrin reminded him. “Sooner or later, I'm going to have to get used to that. Might as well get started now.”
“Careful, Davrin,” Lucanis joked, “or I might start to think that you like having me around.”
Davrin stopped in his tracks, and Lucanis followed suit, slowing down to a standstill at his side. Davrin made a show of slowly dragging his gaze up and down Lucanis's body, only to stop when their eyes met again.
“You say that as if it's a bad thing,” he breathed.
Swallowing thickly, Lucanis's heart skipped a beat.
“I, uh—”
His next thought was cut short when Davrin walked on ahead of him, and what a sight he was. Unable to resist, Lucanis's eyes darted downwards, captivated by the subtle sway of his hips.
Lucanis shook his head to clear his mind, rushing forward to catch up with him.
“It's not,” he managed to say, “but you do realize that I wouldn't hold you to that agreement with Spite, correct? Not if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.”
A violent wave of protest radiated inside his skull, but Lucanis refrained from wincing, refusing to give Spite the satisfaction of a reaction. He needed to realize that throwing a tantrum wasn't a means of getting him what he wanted. He couldn't always have his way.
“I know,” Davrin said, “but don't worry. I wouldn't have agreed to it if I didn't want to, and I have a feeling that Spite and I are long overdue a serious heart-to-heart.”
How quickly those protests died down into a smug sense of satisfaction.
Their footsteps seemed to almost echo around them as they climbed the stairs outside of Davrin's quarters, leading up to the wooden walkway that overlooked the Fade. Beyond floating islands, debris sailed across the sky, clouds forming and dissipating in a near-endless cycle in the distance.
Typically, when the Lighthouse tried to mess with Lucanis's senses, it would remind him of home. The bitter aroma of black coffee would greet him first, followed by the scent of freshly-cleaned sheets and worn leather.
However, when he next drew in a breath, the smell was different than he expected. Instead of the usual combination the Lighthouse presented him with, he was surrounded by the crisp, earthy notes of pine trees. He could practically hear the crackling of a fire, smell the smoky air as it filled his lungs, all wrapped up in the sharp, metallic tang of silverite.
No longer was he reminded of Villa Dellamorte, but of—
“So,” Davrin interrupted his thoughts. Rather than focus too long on the disorienting view before them, they took a moment to stop and face each other instead. “About your ‘promotion’…”
This again?
Lucanis didn't want to think about his new position, let alone talk about it. So much was lost to him, all because of a stupid title. Frustration welled up inside him, and emotion won out over reason. He spoke without thinking first.
“Look, does my ascension to First Talon even matter?” he snapped. “Because it won't be much of a problem for too long, if I die in our fight against the gods anyways, now will it?”
As soon as the words registered in his mind, as soon as he saw Davrin's face fall, Lucanis wished that he could take them all back, that he had simply kept his mouth shut.
But he hadn't.
Now, he had to deal with the truth being out.
An awkward silence fell over them, neither one daring to speak for a while.
Eventually, Davrin looked out at their ever-changing surroundings and said, “You know, if what happened at Weisshaupt taught me anything, it's that we might actually have a chance of surviving this.”
Lucanis snorted.
“You really think so?” After all, there was being optimistic, and then there was being naive.
The last person Lucanis expected this sort of sentiment from was Davrin, but his resolve didn't so much as waver.
“Yep, and why shouldn't I?” he countered. “A slim chance is still a chance. For all intents and purposes, I should have died back at Weisshaupt, but I didn't.” He took a deep breath in, held it, then exhaled. “Coming face-to-face with the very real possibility of death put things into perspective for me. I don't plan to squander my second chance at life. No matter how idealistic it seems, I want to see what comes ‘after.’ I want to witness the ‘better tomorrow,’ and I want to do it with the people who matter most to me.” Not even Lucanis could ignore the glance in his direction, his heart racing a mile a minute. “That is what motivates me. It gives me reason to keep going day after day.”
“Well, perhaps you should answer your own question then.” At his questioning look, Lucanis clarified, “Where do you see yourself, after all this is over?"
Davrin took a minute to really consider that, humming in contemplation.
“If we survive, then I don't think that I could stop being a monster hunter or a Grey Warden for that matter. What that might even mean at that point, who could say? But it would be nice to have a place to call home. Somewhere to go and rest my head when a job is done.” He smiled to himself, Lucanis watching how his expression softened with longing. “Maybe I could share that future with a special someone. We could sit out on our porch, watching the sunset over a bottle of whiskey, with Assan at our feet.”
He grew quiet, lost in thought, but Lucanis could see it all too clearly.
What was even more concerning was that he could see himself in that scenario along with him, exactly how he described it. They would come home after a long day of hunting, and they would draw a bath together, their hands roaming along each other's bodies as they shed their clothes, piece by piece. Calloused fingers would graze along scarred skin, and whether Assan would interrupt them would always be a bit of a gamble. Afterwards, Lucanis would bring him dinner out on the porch while he whittled away at his latest carving. They'd eat and drink and laugh.
One day after another, until streaks of grey and the creases of wrinkles began to show.
“That's not too bad of a plan,” Lucanis murmured.
“Not at all,” Davrin sighed, “but there's a point to sharing all of this. I'm probably the last person you care to hear it from, but don't give up on hope quite yet. Whatever drives you, use it, and keep your fight alive.” When–When did they get so close? Davrin stared down at him, and it was all too easy for Lucanis to get lost in the sight of those warm, brown eyes. A sweat broke out on his palms, and his heart threatened to pound its way right out of his chest. “We have a long road ahead of us before we reach any point of victory, but something tells me that the future has more in store for us.”
‘Us,’ huh?
Why did that one word have the power to turn Lucanis's entire world upside-down?
His next breath was shaky, uneven.
How he managed a coherent response at all, he would never know.
“Trust me, it might not sound like it, but I have plenty of fight left in me,” Lucanis stated, the heat of determination etched into every word. Staring deep into his eyes, Lucanis stepped forward, drawn in by the undeniable pull growing stronger between them. He leaned in close, stealing a brief glimpse of his lips. “Just try to keep up.”
In all honesty, the challenge came as a shock to them both. If Lucanis thought that the previous silence was bad, then this one was downright torture, but Davrin recovered soon enough, bouncing back with that irresistible charm of his.
“Oh, I am more than capable of keeping up with you,” Davrin promised, eyeing his lips in return. He didn't back down, easing forward until they were chest-to-chest. “All I'm saying is that the world would feel pretty empty without you in it, Lucanis, so… try not to die, okay?”
“Likewise,” he whispered.
He didn't know which of them leaned in first, but their lips brushed against each other in the faintest of kisses.
That was when panic set in.
“I—” Lucanis stammered. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”
When he started to pull away, Davrin took him by the hand, lacing their fingers together, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Shouldn't have…?”
Lucanis opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for the right words.
“I shouldn't have assumed that you wanted to…”
He trailed off, still trying to process whether or not that actually happened.
Davrin gently reeled him back in.
“What?” he asked. “That I wanted to kiss you?”
Silently, Lucanis nodded, his heartbeat loud enough in his ears that he wouldn't be surprised if Davrin could hear it, too.
All of a sudden, Davrin reached out to wrap his arms around his waist, Lucanis instantly burying himself deeper into his embrace.
“And if I did?” Davrin wet his lips in anticipation, drawing Lucanis's attention to them once again. “If I wanted to kiss you?” No. He was quick to correct himself. “If I still want to kiss you?”
Faced with such an offer, Lucanis felt foolish for overreacting, but he wasn't foolish enough to let the opportunity pass him by.
Slowly, his hands journeyed their way up along the expanse of Davrin's chest, smoothing out over the length of his shoulders, before his arms finally found their way around his neck, goosebumps left behind in his wake.
Both of them pressed closer together, their foreheads resting against one another.
“Then you may,” Lucanis said, and that was all that Davrin needed to hear.
His lips crashed against Lucanis's with renewed fervor, Lucanis clinging to him as if his very life depended on it. Their eyes slid closed, and their fingers dug into the fabric of their clothes, tight grips threatening to bruise the skin underneath. Davrin threw himself into the kiss with every ounce of focus and passion that he brought to the battlefield, and Lucanis was all too eager to surrender control to him, allowing Davrin to take the lead.
He wanted Davrin to consume his every thought, to flood all of his senses until there was only him.
Every exchange between them now felt as if it was leading up to that moment. Every glare. Every argument. Every laugh. Every smile. Through both good and bad, they forged a bond that only strengthened over time, in spite of their rocky start.
It only made their kiss all the better for it, Lucanis's head spinning in disbelief.
All he could think about was how soft Davrin's lips were as they moved against his, how warm his body was.
One thing he was certain of?
He wanted more. Every fiber of his being yearned for Davrin in ways that made him ache.
“Maker,” he gasped.
Both of them parted for a split second, struggling to catch their breath, but the word was lost to them as Lucanis surged forward to seal their lips into another kiss, desperate to be close to him again.
He didn't want an inch of space left between them.
Lucanis's knees threatened to give out, but Davrin was there to support his weight with little effort. He held Lucanis flush against him, a needy whimper slipping free from the latter's lips.
“Please.” He didn't even know what he was begging for at that point, but Lucanis couldn't contain the plea any longer.
Davrin swore under his breath.
“Fuck, Lucanis, I—”
“Davrin! You up there?!”
It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over their heads.
Their eyes widened at the sound of Rook's voice.
A rush of footsteps drew closer on the stairs, louder with each passing second.
Startled, they jumped apart, right as Rook bolted into view.
“You will never believe what happened. There was—” They stopped short when they realized that Davrin wasn't alone. “Oh! Hey, Lucanis!” They took one look at their disheveled appearances and kiss-swollen lips, then raised a brow at them. Placing their hands on their hips, Rook flashed them a wide, knowing grin. “Was I, uh, interrupting something here?”
“No!” Lucanis huffed, immediately defensive. “What gave you that impression?”
When Rook opened their mouth to speak, Davrin interrupted, “Don't answer that.”
“Right…” Rook jabbed their thumb back in the direction they came from. “I mean, if you two were busy, then I can always come back later.”
“No, you're fine,” Lucanis protested. The moment was over, to say the least. “You two stay and chat. I was about to go and—” What was a believable excuse for him? “—make dinner.”
Rook and Davrin exchanged a pointed look.
“In the middle of the day?” Rook asked, followed by Davrin's mumbled, “Isn't it Bellara's night to cook?”
Lucanis glared, his face flushed.
“Ugh, does it matter?” he retorted. “I want to cook, so I'm going to go cook!”
He didn't wait around to hear what they had to say, taking off towards the dining hall before they could get a word in.
As soon as he stepped foot into the kitchen, he threw his hair up into a messy bun, muttering under his breath the entire time.
He didn't know what he wanted to make, but he knew that he needed to get his hands on a knife, and fast. He started on simple prep, chopping and dicing various ingredients with more force than necessary.
Leave it to Spite to reappear when his thoughts were already in a tangle, grinning like the cat that got the cream.
“Good thing Rook showed up when they did.”
“And why is that?” Lucanis asked through gritted teeth.
“Isn't it obvious?” Spite taunted. “If we stayed there any longer, then I would have turned into Desire!”
He cackled at his expense, the sound harsh and grating.
The last thing Lucanis needed at that moment was to be made fun of.
He saw red, having no patience for Spite's antics, to say the least.
Turning on him, Lucanis hissed, “If you don't shut your mouth, then I'll—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Davrin took a step back when Lucanis aimed his knife at him, Spite conveniently gone from where he once stood. Luckily, Davrin took it all in stride, throwing his hands up in surrender, an amused smile still in place. “I didn't even say anything yet.”
All of the blood drained out of Lucanis's face. He tossed his knife aside onto the cutting board, as if it burned him to hold onto it any longer.
Right next to his ear, he could hear Spite snickering.
“I'm sorry!” Lucanis apologized. “I was—I was just talking to Spite, and—”
“I figured as much.” Davrin relaxed his stance, his arms falling back to his sides. “Still, nice to know you're not angry with me, at least.”
“No,” Lucanis assured him with a small shake of his head, “I'm not.”
Far from it, in fact.
“Good.” Davrin scuffed his boot against the floor, repeating himself. “Good.” He paused, lips pursed. “We should probably talk about what happened back there, though, shouldn't we?”
What? He was leaving it up to Lucanis?
Part of him wanted to forget the whole ordeal, for things to simply go back to how they used to be, but another part of him knew that wasn't possible anymore, not for him. Not now. Not after all of that, whatever that was.
Surely, it wouldn't hurt to clear things up between them.
“Yeah,” Lucanis agreed, “we probably should.”
“Feel free to drop by my room after dinner then.” At the skeptical look on Lucanis's face, he reassured him. “No funny business, I swear, but I'll be more than happy to supply drinks if you want.” He lowered his voice into a mumble. “I have a feeling we might need it.”
Wasn't that the truth?
“So long as you bring the good stuff, then I'll be there,” Lucanis said.
“Alright then.” Claws scraped against the doors to the dining hall, followed by a cranky squawk, drawing their attention away from each other. “Guess that's my cue to leave.” On his way out, Davrin turned to face Lucanis one last time. “By the way, what were you planning on making for dinner again?”
Lucanis knew that he was teasing him, so of course he couldn't let him get away with that, ready to give as good as he got.
He recalled a certain conversation between the two of them, Lucanis taking advantage of the opportunity.
“I'm making soup,” he announced.
“Soup?” Davrin grimaced.
“Mm-hmm… I was thinking about that Dalish seafood recipe that Bellara showed me how to make. Why?” Leaning his weight against the counter, Lucanis met his eyes with a challenging smirk. “Something wrong with that?”
“Not at all. I look forward to it.” When Assan gave an insistent whine, he continued on his way. “I'll see you later then?”
“Yeah.” Lucanis watched him until he was out of sight. Once he was gone, he set to work again. This time, with a goal in mind, sorting through different ideas for dessert. “See you later, Davrin.”