Hi! 8 Or 17 For The Rook Story Time Prompts?

Hi! 8 or 17 for the Rook story time prompts?

First of all I owe you my life your prompts are DELIGHTFUL! Second of all I hope you enjoy! I'm sorry these take so long but am so grateful for you taking the time to send some in!! I had so much fun writing <3

8. A time Rook argued with someone they cared about Echo de Riva (because I'm on a tear about Viago and Rook's relationship right now)

“You will not continue your training–you will not be a Crow.” 

Viago’s words struck Echo as truly as a physical blow. She flinched, staggered back a step. Her skin burned where it pulled taut over fresh, still healing wounds. 

“What?” She hated how small her voice sounded. Like she was eight again, instead of a woman nearly grown.

“It’s too dangerous. You–” Viago bit off his next words, looking away. When he continued, his voice was measured again, low. “You cannot continue.”

“Vi, of course it’s dangerous–you’re the one who says ‘every job is your life risked, doubly if you’re an idiot about it.’” She hoped the sneering Viago impression covered the actual desperation slipping through the cracks. She had to continue her training; what else could she even be? 

“And it’s infinitely more dangerous now! Look at yourself–” he rounded on her, gesturing sharply. “You’re barely standing. Should you have even left your bed?” 

Echo grit her teeth in answer, chin lifting in defiance of her slight sway and copious amounts of visible bandaging. 

“You can’t control your magic, Echo,” Viago continued, the word like a curse. “It will kill you.” 

“No! I can-I can learn! There are mages in the Crows, Heir has probably trained others–I’ll learn, Viago. I can control it,” She reached for him, grasping at his arm. “Please, Vi. I’ll– I will be a credit to de Riva. I swear it.” 

He studied her then, gaze hard underneath his furrowed brow. An eternity passed, her cold hand gripping Viago’s arm, warm even though his leathers. She watched silently as a host of emotions played behind Viago’s eyes, and wished not for the first time she could somehow hear his thoughts. They stared until finally, Viago blinked. Sighed. Echo’s heart soared–surely he was about to relent, realize he was wrong, though he’d never apologize, and tell her she could still be an asset to the House–when his gaze fell to her arm, freshly bandaged and yet already darkened with ruddy, oozing blood. 

“No,” he ground out. “I forbid it.” She hated him for a moment, then. Hated the gentle way he removed her hand, stepped back from her reach. Hated the glimpse of pain that crossed his brow as he turned his back on her. 

“Vi–” she started, before Teia stepped in front of her. She’d materialized from the shadows; Echo had a sneaking suspicion she’d been there the entire time. 

“Not now,” she spoke gently, hushed, though her expression brooked no argument. “Come and rest.” 

As Teia led her back towards her rooms, Echo released a gasping breath, not realizing how it had caught and held as she and Viago had stared each other down. Her body ached, phantom lightning racing across her skin again. She shuddered and immediately Teia’s arm wound carefully around her, ready to catch or support her weight if needed. 

They slowly shuffled up the grand staircase this way, pausing every now and again for Echo to squeeze her eyes tight against another bout of the burning, stinging, searing pain. It only worsened as the adrenaline from the argument waned; by the time they reached Echo’s rooms she went immediately and willingly to her bed. Didn’t say a word as Teia helped her lay down, carefully tucking her in. Again, she felt as if she were eight again–still fragile, still small, still terrified to be left alone, jumping at every shadow as if every moment were her last. 

“Teia–” she began before a wave of despair choked her. She had to become a Crow. She had to. It was all she’d dreamed about, even before Viago had taken her in, and now…Now it was the only way to repay him for all that he’d done. She had to become a Crow, to honor the House that had saved her, provided for her. She had to become a Crow, like her mother and father before her, had to make them proud. Had to make Viago proud. She turned her face slightly away from Teia, unwilling to show the tears building behind her eyes. She willed her voice steady as she asked, “Do you think he means it?” 

“I…” Teia pressed her lips into a thin line. A beat of silence, then a sigh. “I think you scared him, today.”

She went to protest, head whipping around too fast and sending another shockwave of pain through her body. She cleared her throat instead and Teia sighed again. 

“You didn’t see it, Echo. You were up, fighting one moment, holding your own, then suddenly surrounded the next. Then Vi had barely taken a step towards you when we were all thrown back by–”

“By the explosion.” Not quite a question, but close. Echo didn’t remember much from earlier–just the feeling of overwhelm at being surrounded, the adrenaline coursing through her and then the sudden primal surge that had sprung forward in arcing flashes of lightning. Then blackness. Nothing. 

When she’d next awoken it was hazily, to the ministrations of healers, clustered around her and talking too quickly for her brain to register anything as words. Then blackness had taken her under again, until just a little while ago when she’d awoken to a quiet room and thought foolishly to seek Viago out. 

“...Yes. By the explosion. Your…magic, manifesting. The light was so bright and it cracked through the air like, like real lightning. From the sky. All those mercenaries around you were fried and there you were at the center. You collapsed in a pool of blood–yours, we’d come to find out. The lightning hadn’t split the sky, Echo, but you.”

Echo absorbed this. Frowned. “But I survived. And I meant it, Teia. I know I can learn to control it.”

“You barely survived,” Teia’s tone bordered on reproach, “But it’s true. You can learn. It’s a little odd for magic to manifest late, but not unheard of. And I do know Heir can help.”

“Then why would Viago say that?!” She couldn’t temper her shout in time, but found she didn’t actually care if it did echo all the way to Viago’s ears. Teia sighed, rubbing her forehead exasperatedly. 

“Look, I won’t speak for Vi. But I’ve not seen him afraid like that in…in a long time. Just don’t forget who we’re talking about, dove,” Her voice softened around the pet name. “He’s lost a lot, most of which was before he was even born, and none of it due to his own fault–no matter how he feels it to be. Forgive him if he is…extreme in his reaction, I think he only wants to protect you.” 

Echo absorbed this too, remaining quiet. Teia sighed again, her footsteps retreating on a final promise. “I’ll talk to him.”

—

Echo sunk further into her plush pillows as Teia left, mind still racing. She’d learned a lot about Viago over the years; She knew of the title he was denied, the choice thrust upon his mother, and the exile of family to cover the sins of the wealthiest. She knew how he’d lost his mother, how he’d fought every inch of his way up to Fifth Talon. She knew too, he’d invested a lot into her as an asset for House de Riva. An asset…she blew out a frustrated gust of air. 

Idiot. She knew he cared for her. She wasn’t stupid, just surprised at the strength of it. Before, she thought herself more asset than ward, but now…

Exhaustion pulled at her, her eyes growing heavier with each blink, until she finally succumbed, letting the darkness drag her down. Dreamless, she slept so deeply she didn’t hear the quiet scrape of a chair beside her bedside, nor felt the hand–ungloved–that reached out to hold hers, deep into the night.