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“This is Inquisitor Lavellan. The man who led us all.” Rook nods along to the introduction, offering his own quick, but polite, greeting to the powerful elf in front of him. He can barely make out the features of the Inquisitor outside of the soft burn of candles, but he thinks he can see the hint of a smile on the others face.
He wants to curse the fact that this meeting was pushed until nightfall. What was supposed to be a quick jaunt into the forests of Arlathan turned into a full day quest. Thankfully, a quick word to Morrigan allowed for the meeting to be rescheduled for later the same day, although Rook could tell she wasn’t pleased. Perhaps that’s why she decided to only light just enough candles to not trip over the furniture of the empty tavern.
Despite that, he can’t risk ruining this connection with perhaps one of the most powerful men in the entire land just because he’s annoyed with the lighting.
The Inquisitor is in the middle of explaining some wolf statue that’s supposedly connected to the Dread Wolf himself when a sharp gust of wind blows through the open front doors, shifting the light closer to Rook for just a second. The man pauses, hand half-reaching for the statue and mouth open around the words he had meant to say. Rook waits for the conversation to continue, idly running his fingers through his hair to try and get it back under control.
His hand freezes when the Inquisitor takes a step towards him, then another. He can hear Lucanis tense behind him, a hushed word from Harding attempting to stop whatever he’s doing. Rook only watches with narrowed eyes as the older man continues slowly moving forward until they’re only a few feet away. This close, he can more clearly see the other’s face.
A short gasp rips from his throat as he meets the man's eyes. Takes in the man’s face, the familiar vallaslin and features. Memories he long thought were locked away rush back to the surface. This face, guiding him through his first mock hunt. Showing him their sister’s carvings and hand-made bows.
Screaming his name as he’s dragged away by slavers. Screaming-
“Lenan.” In such a breathy tone, so different from the last time he heard that name uttered. Over two decades since he’s known anyone that called him by it. He can feel his breath rush out in an almost silent whimper.
“Lethal’lin.” Rook’s strength leaves him at the word, sending him crashing into the Inquisitor– Sal'ladin, his brother. Now familiar, strong arms cradle him as he clings to the front of his brother's simple outfit. He barely even notices Morrigan ushering his two companions to a different area of the tavern.
“Oh, ‘ma’da’isenatha,” Sal’ladin whispers into his hair, one hand running through the smooth strands as the other holds him tightly around his back. “Your hair, you changed it?”
Rook hesitates to nod against Sal’ladin’s shoulder, ashamed of the reason now that he’s in his brother's arms once again. As if he can sense it, his brother just holds him closer.
“It is okay, lethal’lin, we have time now. So much of it. I will not let you go again.” Sal’ladin squeezes him tightly once more before pulling back to instead cup Rook’s face. His brother's lips twist in a sad smile as he takes in his features.
“You have given yourself your own tattoos, I see. You couldn’t wait until you returned to us?” He attempts to joke, but it falls flat at the reminder of how much time Rook has been waiting for this miracle. Sal’ladin blocks his attempts at a response, pushing his cheeks together gently.
“Hush, we will speak of that later. For now, let me see how you have grown.” There’s a silence as he does just that, Rook taking this time to get his own look at his older brother. Age is showing on his face, his vallaslin still as deep a red as the day he got it, just a few days after Rook turned six. Two years before he was ripped away from his family. Some hesitant tears finally fell as he took in the wrinkles and scars he wasn’t there to see grow and heal on his brother's face. Faced with these changes, his mind turns to his other siblings.
“And-” He clears his throat quickly, embarrassed at how shaky his voice sounds. “And what about Eir’lana? I’ve’ani? How are they?” His brother hums.
“They are good. They’ve missed you, although I think I’ve’ani knew this day would come.” Rook laughs through his tears.
“He always did have some ability to give vague predictions or warnings of the future.” Sal’ladin laughs with him.
“Yes, although that did not make this passing of time any easier. I think he clung to whatever gives him these thoughts tighter than I’ve ever seen before.” Rook’s heart burns at the thought of his second oldest brother’s grief.
“Eir’lana took it upon herself to try and find you for the first few years. I joined her on many of her hunts, but it got to be too much too quickly. Her wrath consumed her for so long. The clan finally had to pull her back and keep her from going out for weeks before her anger burned into grief.”
“And now?” Sal’ladin hums in thought.
“Now, she hunts a different man, although she has not forgotten you.” Rook can’t help the questioning noise that echoes his confusion. Sal’ladin winces.
“Ah, well. During my time with the Inquisition, it took a while for Eir’lana and I’ve’ani to find me again. When they met me at Skyhold, Eir’lana took… an interest in Solas. And, well. He eventually left me without an arm, and our sister without a piece of her heart.” Rook’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.
“... You’re lying.” Sal’ladin shakes his head, apparently already knowing and understanding Rook’s disbelief. “She’s too smart for that. Surely she wouldn’t fall for… him?” Rook begged. The oldest of the four, Eir’lana had proven time and time again that she would never fall for any bullshit of any kind. Surely she saw how shady Solas was. Surely she could tell there was something he was hiding.
“I think she liked having someone to argue with outside of the clan. I’m sure you’ve learned of Solas’s opinions on the Dalish as a whole.” Rook nods. “The amount of times I had Dorian come to me, complaining about the shouting matches that would echo up to his reading nook, got ridiculous at a certain point. I couldn’t stop them, however, and I think eventually they moved from arguing to… a friendly kind of banter. From there, I don’t think she questioned anything about him anymore.” His brother hesitates for a moment.
“He took her vallaslin one night.” Rook gasps. Sal’ladin smiles sadly at him.
“He had good reason to, although I think his actions following it ruined the moment and left it bitter. Solas left her that night, breaking whatever bond they had growing, and she never visited his area again except to join Dorian or Leliana further up the tower. Now, she’s joined the hunt to find Solas and stop him. I’m honestly surprised Varric didn’t find her and reunite the two of you first.”
Rook can’t find the right way to react to this information. All he has is more questions and more pain in his heart for the events he’s missed.
“Is she here now?”
“No, although I am sure Morrigan is making it her new mission to bring both Eir’lana and I’ve’ani here as soon as she can.” Sal’ladin answers. There’s another silence for a moment, broken by his brother shaking off the heaviness of their conversation.
“Now, it looked to me like you had a little birdie glaring at me over your shoulder before this whole mess. Care to explain your bond? Should I be expecting a new brother soon?” Rook’s face, at first confused by the implications, lights bright red when it clicks.
“He’s not- We’re- It’s not what you’re- Ugh!” He groans, turning away from his brother’s laughter.